


it’s right in front of me so there’s no reason to pretend

by inmoonlightigetseasick



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sibling Rivalry, Sports injuries, all my figure skating knowledge comes from my obsession w tessa and scott, and i tonya, skating au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25501813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmoonlightigetseasick/pseuds/inmoonlightigetseasick
Summary: Blades hissing against ice, beating a steady rhythm to the echoing Vivaldi track. The arena lights dancing off of pink sequinned fabric. The blur of Alexis skating past him. The rush of air in her wake. His thundering heart calmed by the composure on her face, and the twitch in his eyebrows, making sure his expression matched.This was David’s world. It was what he knew best.This was their final practice for the 2021 Canadian Championships, which, if they won, would mean their third national title: the final step to make their Olympic dreams come true. David wasn’t even thinking as he let his body fall into the grooves of the routine, practiced a thousand times. All they had left to go was one simultaneous double-axel, then a lift, and finally their signature move. Like clockwork, at this part David’s palms would start to sweat in anticipation. Not like, a disgusting amount, but a normal, totally reasonable amount for the amount of pressure they were under.--David and Alexis are Canada's golden figure skating duo. When their Olympic dreams are unexpectedly halted, they have to pick up the pieces, fall apart, and grow together, and maybe find love along the way.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	it’s right in front of me so there’s no reason to pretend

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> These sports require freezing temperatures or refrigerated buildings to compete in. Curling, Skiing (all varieties), snowboarding (all varieties), skating (speed and figure - individual and pairs), bobsleigh, luge, skeleton, snowball fights? 
> 
> Your submission for this prompt can be fully in an Alternate Universe, just canon divergent or fully canon compliant. For example:
> 
> _Patrick and Ronnie's sports feud seeps into their respective curling teams in the winter?_
> 
> _Alexis and David Rose - figure skaters as groomed by Moira Rose who are heading to the Olympics?_
> 
> _A ski trip for our Schitt's Creek friends?_
> 
> Go wild with all the options available to you.

**_2021_ **

Blades hissing against ice, beating a steady rhythm to the echoing Vivaldi track. The arena lights dancing off of pink sequinned fabric. The blur of Alexis skating past him. The rush of air in her wake. His thundering heart calmed by the composure on her face, and the twitch in his eyebrows, making sure his expression matched. 

This was David’s world. It was what he knew best. 

This was their final practice for the 2021 Canadian Championships, which, if they won, would mean their third national title: the final step to make their Olympic dreams come true. David wasn’t even thinking as he let his body fall into the grooves of the routine, practiced a thousand times. All they had left to go was one simultaneous double-axel, then a lift, and finally their signature move. Like clockwork, at this part David’s palms would start to sweat in anticipation. Not like, a disgusting amount, but a normal, totally reasonable amount for the amount of pressure they were under. 

All at once, Alexis soared, the fiery trails of her costume glittering, until her right skate landed firmly in David’s grip and he boosted her, one leg extended behind her, like some majestic flamingo. _One, two, three, four, five_ seconds he would hold her, until he really started to feel the blade digging into his palm, and he lowered her slowly, gracefully. The Roses _always_ stuck the landing. 

They skated one triumphant circle in the centre, and finished with a flourish of their arms, in time with the final hit of the orchestra.

“Brava! Brava! My beautiful birds of paradise!” Moira cheered from the stands. Winded, David and Alexis skated towards her. David stopped, hands against the rink’s side. He cringed when his legs brushed against the giant sticker there, garishly advertising the real estate business of some Ray Butani. He took a grateful swig of the water his mother handed him.

David had the grace to smile at Moira, who supplemented her parenting duties by serving as their equally pitiless coach. He was basking in the second before her actual critiques, so he could pretend that they had pleased her for once. Alexis didn’t have that kind of patience anymore. David wondered how someone could scowl with a hydroflask covering half their face, but Alexis managed it.

“What, was my leg still not straight enough this time?” Alexis asked, still drinking, her voice echoing metallically into her bottle. 

“Well, Alexis, when I said _per_ pendicular, you could have taken it a little more _liter_ ally. I tend not to jape when it comes to achieving the optimal tableau, and I believe I have won you enough national titles that you can see my _modus operandi_ is unobjectionable.” 

“Um. Okay. That’s literally as straight as my leg can go so unless you want me to grow a member of the _Chainsmokers_ down there, you’ll have to deal with it.” And with that she swung open the gate and stormed off— as best as you can storm off in skates. Honestly, Alexis had perfected the amount of bitchy gravitas to add to that unavoidable waddle. 

David slid idly back and forth on his skates while his mother watched Alexis leave, harping after her about practicing her splits. When she was done she turned back to David, and he skated back, bumping his knees against Ray Butani’s receding hairline. 

“Do you have notes for me, by any chance?” 

Moira looked at him for a beat, her expression deadpan. “You’ll want to sit down.” 

David rolled his eyes. He knew his mother would go on for ages about the particular angles at which he attempted a given jump, or tell him for the thousandth time to stop looking “like a startled marionette” when he landed, but at least she would pay for lunch while she did it. He followed her happily. He knew that they were perfect. He knew that they’d be in Beijing next year. They’d been working towards this forever, and now it was time to reap their reward.

—

Nerves coursed through David’s body, and he could feel them in his fingertips as he laced up his skates. His costume clung to his form, doing its best to wick away the sweat that was slowly gathering on his skin. Beside him, Alexis tapped away at her cellphone, seemingly nonplussed, but David knew from the twitch in her thumb that she was feeling it too. He also knew from far too many years doing this that she wouldn’t want to talk about it. 

The final orchestral hit drew both of their attentions to the front, where they were about to go on. Their rivals had just finished. David frowned up at the scoreboard, mostly tuning out the announcement as they came in. 

“A _fifty eight_ on technical? How the fuck—” 

“David.” Moira’s voice was sharp, warning. “Watch your language, _and_ those eyebrows.”

Gaping at his mother’s admonishment, David simultaneously schooled his features. The world of ice dance wasn’t generally rife with scandals, but he also couldn’t afford any more comments on his sportsmanship. He was being persecuted for having resting bitch face, but that was neither here nor there. 

He plastered on his media smile as they walked past, trying not to gag at the weird farm smell of their sweat. Mutt and Twyla, Canada’s _other_ darling figure skating duo, as they made their way to the kiss and cry. The only thing these assholes had over the Roses was that they weren’t siblings, they were _dating_ , so the heteronormative gossip machine had a much better time with them. They weren’t necessarily better skaters, David would argue until he was blue in the face, they just got better publicity. 

“Hey Roses!” Twyla’s syrupy-sweet voice greeted them, along with her too-big smile. David smiled back, for the sake of the cameras, but it was hard. He wondered idly if Mutt and Twyla had acting coaches on the side, and if so, maybe he’d ask his mother to hire some too. Maybe just for David’s sake. 

“Oh my gosh, _hey_ Twy!” Alexis had plastered on her tightest most unpleasant smile in return. “Great work out there!” If Twyla detected the sarcasm in Alexis’s voice, she didn’t let it show, only continued to smile incandescently and move on.

David had nothing nice to say, so he opted for silence, forcing his grin and nodding slightly in acknowledgement as they waddled past to their maniacally grinning coach, Jocelyn. Mutt seemed to have a similar idea and was silent. his chest still heaving a little, and his forehead glistening from the exertion. He walked past, barely acknowledging them. Still, David didn’t miss the strange lingering look he gave Alexis. When David glanced at his sister, she had a slight pink blush dusting her cheeks and that smile was gone. In his chest, a familiar uptick of anxiety made itself known, but David chose to ignore it. He couldn’t deal with whatever relationship psychodrama Alexis was brewing right now. They had much, _much_ bigger things to worry about. 

The most pressing of his anxieties was now beating Mutt and Twyla’s scores. They had to be number one. They could do this. This is what they’d been training for. 

David turned to Alexis. “Are you ready for this?”

Another burst of anxiety, she seemed distracted. She nodded at him, quickly, “Yes. Yup. Totally.”

Time seemed to fold in on itself, and before he knew it, David was stepping on the ice, gliding automatically behind Alexis to the centre of the rink. They turned so that their backs were to each other, and reached back to link their arms. He could feel his muscles ease into the familiar memory of this starting position, of this well-practiced routine. 

He took a deep breath, and the music started to play. It was a Shostakovich Jazz Suite that David had listened to until he had memorized every note, every beat, every rest. Once, in a fit of nervous mania, he’d even printed out the sheet music. He didn’t play a single instrument. 

As soon as the lilting French horn sounded, they untangled from their embrace and began to glide, arcing around the perimeter of the rink, passing each other like smooth-sailing ships, spinning like neighbouring comets, as the waltz began in earnest. As the first hit of the flute joined the orchestra, so too did David and Alexis join hands, and David strained to get Alexis up into their first lift. When he set her down their movements became staccato with the fluttering flute, and they held on to each other as they spun, and let go to each perform a perfectly synchronous lutz, then a flip, followed by a meticulously coordinated double axel. The music swelled, and they came closer again, dancing together like kids, Alexis’s smile was rid of all the artifice and so was David’s, bright and earnest on his face as he remembered why they did all of this in the first place. The joyful feeling in the bursts of flute and horn, the memory of rushing to the rink after school, of skating for their family on Christmas Day. Finally, the end of the song nears, and David watches Alexis’s expression sober, gathering in concentration. 

But then he sees her eyes flicker to the stands, and a shot of worry runs through him. He tries to push the feeling aside, focus on the adrenaline, take this thing home. 

Alexis looks back at him, he needs to believe she is ready. It’s too late now if she’s not. Alexis skated back away from him, she completed her toe-loop, and then gathered momentum as she started towards him again. David braced himself, found his centre of gravity, and waited for that moment to come. Then, she was in his arms, and he was lifting her, and it felt right— like it had felt a thousand times— but then, it didn’t. 

David was barely aware of what was happening, just that suddenly, Alexis was tilting dangerously, and he couldn’t get a grip on her, the sequins of her costume slicing and slipping through his fingers. There was a horrible crunching sound, a shriek piercing the air, and the music stopped. A hush fell over the crowd, then an overwhelming, panicked din. 

There was a constant ringing in David’s ears, his vision was going blurry. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen— not at all. This wasn’t what they had practiced. He leaned over Alexis on the ground, nausea pressed against his stomach as he tried to look at her leg, he couldn’t make himself do it. Alexis was screaming, in pain, in anger. Then, people were rushing in to help. 

Not that they could do anything. It was all over now. David focused on the feeling of the cold ice seeping through his tights, freezing against his knees. He pressed them down harder, it hurt, but not worse than this. 

—

In the end, Alexis was fine. Her right ankle did break, and there were about three fractures in her shin, effectively ruining her ability to skate for the rest of the season, if not for the rest of the year, but she was alive, and her head never hit the ice. Isn’t that what counted? 

Alexis wouldn’t say so. She wouldn’t call being swaddled in a hospital bed with her leg propped up, entombed in a cast, immobile and grumpy, looking unkempt without her makeup or hair stylist team, generally wallowing in the worst misery of her short life being ‘fine.’ Nor would her family, who, apart from the perpetually sage Johnny Rose, were in catatonics. 

“Well, look at it this way honey—“ Johnny would begin, but he’d promptly be cut off by a frustrated shriek. 

“There’s no way to look at it, Dad, my career is over!” 

“What is a change of perspective supposed to accomplish? We’re not going to the Olympics.” David piled on, and a pall fell about the room. Moira heaved in a breath, in the later stages of coming down from her prolonged panic breakdown. She turned on her husband as well. 

“Really, John, Alexis is already suffering so, your suggestions are only exacerbating her anguish!” 

Knowing when he had lost, Johnny threw his hands in the air. “Alright. I’m going down to the cafeteria if anyone wants anything. Does anyone want anything?” 

He took a moment to appraise his family. Moira sniffed, and didn’t answer. Alexis crossed her arms in front of her chest and stayed silent. David looked at the both of them and rolled his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t mind, um, one of those jello things. Actually maybe a couple of them.” 

“Jello for David, got it. Anything else?” 

“Well you already know how I take my tea, John, I don’t see why you have to ask.” 

Johnny smiled, “And a tea for Moira. Alexis?” 

“I’m too sad to eat anything.” 

“Alright, then, not a problem.” 

He was halfway out the door before Alexis’s voice sounded. “Dad?” He ducked back in. 

“Maybe one of those peanut butter cup things.” Alexis looked warily to their mother, as if for permission, and Moira sighed, telegraphing that there was no need for any strict diet anymore. Alexis’s voice wavered when she spoke again, “Actually maybe three or four.” 

“Got it,” Johnny said, and then he disappeared to get their snacks. The three most mercurial Roses sat in the wake of their patriarch’s calm and his kindness, but it wouldn’t last.

Alexis was moping, her face pressed against the pillow. David watched her blink slowly and sigh, her eyes were red and puffy from crying. He wasn’t much better off. Their mother hid her eyes behind a giant pair of Valentino sunglasses, but he knew that behind them, her concerned gaze focused on Alexis alone. Finally, Alexis looked at David. He was a little startled to see anger had replaced the dejectedness in her expression.

“I can’t believe you dropped me like that, David.” 

“Excuse me?! I didn’t drop you, you fucking fell.” 

“Children,” Moira said, half-heartedly attempting to stop their bickering. 

“I don’t fall, David. I haven’t been doing this for my whole stupid life to fall. It was you.”

“ _I_ haven’t been doing this my whole life to ever drop you— or anyone, _ever!_ ”

“Then what happened?” Moira interjected, as usual stoking the flame of their argument. “What was the cause of this tarsal-shattering, career obliterating fiasco?”

David felt a sick, self-righteousness take hold of him then. “Alexis was distracted.” 

Alexis gasped, her shock feigned, but her anger real. “No I wasn’t!”

“I saw you, before we went on. You weren’t focused, you weren’t locked in, you were— you were looking at _Mutt_.” 

“David. Shut. Up.” Alexis was staring daggers now. 

“What are you implying, David?” Moira perked up in her seat, curious now. 

“What am _I_ implying? What is your _daughter_ implying by making puppy-dog eyes at our competition?” 

“Ew, David. I do not make puppy-dog eyes.”

“Care to explain what I saw, then?”

“Nothing, David, as usual. It’s just your undiagnosed anxiety disorder making you paranoid!"

“Okay, dodge the question, then. It only makes you look more guilty.”

“Kids!” Moira interrupted, “I will not have you arguing like this in a public healthcare facility. For all you know these private walls are thin, they are practically gossamer! After your little stunt the final thing we need is more media attention!”

David huffed out a breath and crossed his arms. “It wasn’t my fault.” 

“Well, I don’t fall David so I don’t see what else it could be.” Alexis looked imperiously at her nails. 

“You just continue living in your delusion.” David shot her a sarcastic smile, she scowled back. Even from behind her glasses, David could tell their mother rolled her eyes at the two of them.

“Yeah,” Alexis said then, her voice small. “While I do that, you can find a new partner.” 

A stunned silence filled the room, broken only by the distant beeping of some hospital alarm. David had the distinct feeling he was going to be sick, and it wasn’t just from the stale medical smell.

“What?”

“You must jest, Alexis.” His mother’s voice had gone up and down a dangerous octave.

“I’m not. I’m going solo.” 

Her words dropped like a bomb. Moira took a few gasping, frantic breaths. David decided he had had enough, and as he walked through the door, he brushed past his father. He was already down the hallway when he heard his dad call after him. 

“Was I that late getting the jello?”

—

Alexis frowned at herself in the hotel’s hallway mirror. She was wearing a giant white Cecilie Bahnsen wrap dress, which accentuated the pale column of slender neck, as well as her bony wrists, each adorned with a respectable amount of delicate silver jewelry. Her hair was pinned back in a sobering ponytail, but she’d attached a sparkly little barrette because, for God’s sake, she wasn’t announcing her retirement. What she _was_ about to reveal was making her anxious though, and that was making her fiddle with her dress and her necklaces, nothing seemed quite right. Then it dawned on her that her look wasn’t exactly the problem, but the cast and the wheelchair of it all was what was wrong with this picture. She wasn’t used to seeing herself like this. 

Still, it added a certain pathos about her appearance. It wasn’t that she necessarily _needed_ to generate sympathy right now, but it would help. 

Moira hovered behind her, her hands about a foot away from the handles on her wheelchair. Alexis held back a comment about how her broken ankle certainly wasn’t contagious, because she wasn’t sure her awful karma couldn’t be transmitted right now.

“I’ve got it,” she said, and Moira deflated in relief. Her heels clicked slowly beside Alexis as she rolled towards the double doors that led into the auditorium. A kind member of the hotel staff held them open for her, and she wheeled uncertainly towards the ramp that led up to the stage. The incline was slight, but she was scared as she approached it. Her arms trembled a little, but she made it, the applause from her audience helped. 

“Good afternoon,” she began, trying her best not to squint against the flashing cameras. 

From the Rosebud Rink, David watched his sister’s press smile stretch her face in a way that must hurt. He said as much to Stevie, the rink’s only employee and, unrelated, his only friend.

“Yeah I’m sure her leg hurts a lot,” Stevie replied, and she rolled her eyes, returning to her book. David cast his glance around the dingy little staff room Stevie, feeling uncomfortable on the lumpy couch, but finding no better options, he tried to settle in against the hard cushions as he watched the television. 

It was the first time he was hearing from his sister in weeks. After her episode in the hospital, the Roses had been divided. For a while, Moira had been on his side, totally opposed to the break-up of their group. As usual, his dad had sympathized with Alexis, slathered on his relentless optimism like a fresh coat of paint. It did little to help. David knew now, thought, that if their parents ever denied having favourites again, he’d only have to bring this incident up to shut them up forever. Not that it was a bad thing, the split allegiances, it was just that his mother wasn’t exactly a reliable ally. In a few weeks she had changed her mind, embracing Alexis’s empowering decision, leaving David in the dust. 

“Oh well,” she’d said, her violent red lip pouting, “There’s always coaching, David.” 

In the moment, he’d thrown a fit. But now, resigned to the depression stage of mourning his career, he slumped against Stevie’s flat cushions, in yesterday’s sweater, and watched his sister on television. Their whole lives spent skating together, and this was the only way he was able to see her now. She was poised, though gaunt and delicate. He found he couldn’t even summon his anger towards her anymore. He watched, letting that numb feeling wash over him. 

The next thing Alexis said into the mic was this: “I would also like to address the rumours of my involvement with Mutt Schitt.” At once, her ears perking up, Stevie leaned in to the screen, her book discarded. 

“Oh, so now you’re interested?” 

“Shut up for a second, okay?”

David rolled his eyes but he focused on the TV as well. His suspicions were about to be confirmed. 

“The two of us did briefly have an… entanglement.” There was a murmur that ran through the press crowd, but Alexis cleared her throat and it quieted down. “It was while he was still in a relationship with Twyla Sands. It was brief and it is over now. Both of us have realized it was a mistake. It was hurtful to Twyla, someone we both care about, and it will never happen again. My sincerest apologies are to Twyla, but I also want to make my deep regret publicly known. Still, I ask that the media respect her privacy and mine in this difficult time.”

As soon as she finished the room erupted with questions. David sighed, he didn’t feel as satisfied as he thought he would. To be fair, he didn’t feel much at all anymore. 

Her taste for gossip sated, his best friend finally turned her attention to David. 

“I thought for sure that would cheer you up.”

“How? I already knew.” 

“Yeah, but she had to admit it.” 

“She’ll never admit that _it_ happened because of him.” 

“Her accident, you mean.” 

“The death of our dreams, I mean.” 

“How much longer do you plan on moping about this?” 

“It _just_ happened!”

“Yeah, but it happened. There isn’t much you can do about it, now.” 

“I can feel sad about it.” David had crossed his arms around his chest now. Stevie sighed. She got up and walked to the door. 

“Forever?” 

“If I must.” 

Stevie shrugged then, her casualness was putting David on edge. “Yeah, I guess you could do that. Or you could come skate with me.”

The thought of it shocked him— he hadn’t touched his skates since the _incident_ —it startled him almost all the way out of his depressed haze. Almost. He realized instantly that might have been Stevie’s intention. He narrowed his eyes at her and slumped farther into the couch, which was hard, it really was a cheap old atrocity. 

“I see what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.” 

“Come on, David.” Stevie was this close to begging, and since he felt irrationally angry at her for trying to cheer him up, he waited until she did. He didn’t have to wait long. “Please? Just for a little while?”

He covered his face with his hands and let out a frustrated sigh. But then he slowly got up from the couch— his sore back thanked him— and turned to Stevie’s beaming face. 

“Okay, just for a bit.” 

“And you’re going to help me with my lutzes, right?”

“Don’t think I signed up for that.” 

But now, David was grinning, already slipping on his skates. He had forgotten how much he missed this feeling. He stepped out onto the ice with his best friend, and for the first time in months, felt like _all_ hope probably wasn’t lost. When he breathed in the familiar cool air, and his skate landed on the zamboni-smooth ice. He thought maybe he had a little more hope to spare.

**_2022_ **

“You’re healing up well, Alexis, actually better than we could have hoped.” 

“I’ve been good, Ted.” Alexis sniffed. “I’ve done all those exercises you told me to do.” 

He grinned at her and her heart thumped traitorously. He hadn’t ever let her call him ‘Dr. Mullins,’ but he’d also looked like he was going to be sick the first time she asked him out. Something about it being forbidden to date patients. She hadn’t really been listening, rather too impressed by how well she was dealing with her first rejection. Alexis had seen him regularly since then, the blow to her ego almost forgotten. 

Almost. Now, she was peering over at the x-rays in his hands, where he sat a respectable few meters apart, too proud, or maybe too embarrassed, to ask him to bring them closer or explain them. But Ted had this annoying way of reading her mind— _kinesthesiology_ he’d admonished Alexis once, not _telekinesis_ — and he scooted his chair closer and began to explain. 

“Since we got your cast off and you started walking again, even with the crutches, there’s been some strain where the injuries healed— but you’ve done well to keep off of your feet and you’ve given them a chance to get stronger.” 

“Am I going to be able to skate again soon? I need to start training now if I’m going to be ready for the upcoming season.” 

Ted winced, like he always did when he was about to deliver bad news. “I’m sorry, Alexis. Not yet.” 

Alexis couldn't hold back her frustrated sigh. She buried her face in her hands, and curled in on herself, resting her elbows on her knees, her back arcing against the cool lycra of her clothes. Her words came out muffled through her fingers. “But I’ve been working so hard— Ted, does this ever end?”

There was a long silence. Alexis looked into the warm pink of her fingers, listened to her own harsh breathing in Ted’s office, and the shuffling of papers. Months of that awful cast, hobbling around everywhere on crutches, the punishing physical therapy, all so she could be ready for this season. All to be told it wasn’t enough? The disappointment felt like it was crushing her. 

“Can you start training in a month?” 

“What?” 

Alexis shot up then. She looked at Ted with hope and tears mingling in the corners of her eyes. This was the first good news she’d heard in ages, and it was shooting through her like caffeine. 

“I want to see you again after a month to see how your healing is progressing— then I’m going to do everything I can to sign off on you training.” 

“Yes! A month. Okay! That’s fine! That’s great!” Alexis could feel her hands starting to shake, but it was a good kind of shaking, from all the excitement buzzing beneath her skin. 

Ted sighed. He looked a little rueful at his own suggestion. But it didn’t tamp down Alexis’s mood. He stood up then and paced back towards his desk. “It’s only because you’ve been responding so well to the physical therapy. I wouldn’t recommend this if I didn’t think you were up to the challenge."

“I promise you, Ted, I’m up to it.” 

Ted nodded then, smiling down at his desk, not looking back at her. Alexis ignored that flutter in her chest as she watched him, and quickly focused on the black plastic wheel of his chair, instead of the adorable smile line in his cheek. 

“And you’re going to stop if it hurts again, right?” 

Alexis nodded, distracted, already thinking about telling her mother, about making real all the new routines she’d been dreaming up, about her solo career. She smiled until her cheeks hurt. 

“Well, we’re all done for today then,” Ted said, then he smiled that little half-smile he did when he was about to deliver a particularly awful pun. Alexis braced for it. “ _Os-te-o_ later!” 

Alexis cringed but then she had to press a hand to her mouth to suppress her genuine giggle. “Ooh, Ted. No. Two stars, you can do better.” 

She watched him laugh and shake his head before he left the room, and she realized this was going to be the longest month of her life. 

—

David squinted against the harsh morning light. He lowered his shades before stepping into the rink. The coffee in his hand was growing more lukewarm by the second, but he couldn’t force himself to chug it. Something about the saccharine liquid lacked its usual punch today. Maybe there was just too much grouchy fatigue for it to offset. Regardless, it was a waste of seven bucks. 

“Hi David!” 

A chorus of shrill voices sounded from the sitting area in front of the rink’s cafe. David continued his singular path towards the change-rooms, but paused to smile back at them and wave. He was sure he managed at least a grimace. The Patagonia-clad skate moms consider him a fixture of this place, they always have, but ever since his career died, their snide pity has become all the more pointed. 

He pushed the double doors open with his hip, trying his best not to frown at the kids shrieking and giggling on the ice. He’d gotten in trouble for that before. Something about maintaining a family friendly atmosphere. His sweater wasn’t black this morning, it was a patchwork Valentino, it read “LOVE” in blocky embroidery. He was basically Mr. fucking Rogers. 

Once he had finished his coffee, scrolled through his instagram, and fretted about why his mother had called him into the rink at such an ungodly hour, he laced up his skates and waddled out onto the ice. 

His mother, characteristically, was late. But David noted that following the exodus of the kids, he was not alone on the ice. Stevie was there, in her usual slouchy flannel get up, skating distracted circles in the ice. He approached her. 

“What are you doing here so early?” 

“I could ask the same of you.”

“My mother asked me to meet her.”

“Your mother asked _me_ to meet her too…” 

Now David was confused. “Did she tell you why?” 

“No. And I’m guessing she didn’t tell you either.” 

“My guess is to audition another hopeless girl to be my new partner.” 

Stevie winced sympathetically. She knew this year had been rough on David. The endless cycle of failed auditions had worn him down considerably. Stevie was often the only person there afterwards, working at the rink, to commiserate and drown his sorrows in a beer or a joint, or sometimes both. 

“Did she tell you to meet her at eight, too?” Stevie squinted at her watch. 

“All numbers are at least partly theoretical when it comes to my mother.” 

But it seemed as though David’s complaint summoned her. He and Stevie both turned at the sound of her theatrical laugh, they could see her through the window chatting with the skate moms, who were all on their way out. They were caught in a courtesy crossfire, so Stevie and David waited until the pleasantries were done. 

When Moira did finally find her way into the rink, it was with a red wig piled high on her head, and armed with excuses, cursing the city’s traffic and its weather. 

“Good morning children. Stevie, you’re looking particularly… alive this morning, good for you.”

Stevie frowned at that, but David interrupted before she could reply. “Are you going to tell us why you called us in here so early?” 

“How clairvoyant of you, David, I was just about to.”

“And?” 

“Someone is impatient this morning. It seems a higher dosage of caffeine might be necessary, David, I want you to chipper up before your new coach gets here.”

David felt his stomach drop, and then hope swooped up in his chest. “What new coach?” 

Usually, David was adaptable to change. But this year had already thrown too much at him. No new partner yet, and now his own mother would be abandoning him? David’s grip tightened against the edge of the rink.

Moira sighed, put upon, totally dismissive of David’s mounting distress. His pulse was already jumping, and he held his fingers still to keep them from shaking as Moira started to explain. “Alexis’s convalescence has gone exceedingly well to plan, according to her handsome doctor, so she and I will be resuming her training soon.” 

“What does that have to do with me?” 

“David, you know as much as I cherish the opportunity to bestow my Olympian wisdom upon you both, there are only so many hours in the day. You and Alexis both need someone with the utmost devotion to rebuilding your careers, and my own generosity is not without its limits.” 

“How can you be assigning me a new coach when I don’t even have a new partner yet?” 

“Funny you should mention that,” his mother said, and then she looked meaningfully over at Stevie. At once, David’s gaze alighted on her as well. 

“Why are you two looking at me like that?” Stevie chimed in now. There was a beat of silence before the understanding— and immediate horror—registered on Stevie’s face. She began to stammer. “Mrs. Rose, I’m flattered but I’m not… I don’t compete.”

“Not yet, you don’t. But it’s no secret you are a talented skater. Bereft of only the resources for a competitive career. Certainly possessing enough time— my husband tells me you have been moping around this rink for far too long. This will be just the opportunity to exorcize this prolonged depressive episode!”

David cast a sympathetic glance his friend’s way, noticing she was already sweating, her face going ashen. “For what it’s worth, Stevie, I don’t think this is the worst idea in the world.”

Stevie gapes at him, betrayed. “You’re on board with her?”

David took a deep breath. “I haven’t given up on the Olympics. Even if Alexis… well. I don’t see another way. No one else has worked.”

“And why was that exactly, David? Poor sportsmanship? Abrasive personality?” Stevie asked, deadpan, a single eyebrow raised. “God complex?” 

David scowled back at her. “Creative differences.”

“I’m your only hope?” 

The anger dissipated from David as he thought of what this year had been so far. Long practices with increasingly dispassionate partners, devolving into screaming matches on the ice, tears on more than one occasion— no one who had the patience for him like Alexis had. Moira’s patience was wearing thin too. But his best friend— maybe his only friend, she knew him better than anyone, had patience for him in heaps. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it himself. 

But then he caught the real fear in her eyes. Maybe it was because he knew her just as well as she knew him— this would be way out of her comfort zone. It would be asking a lot of her. This thought tamped down much of the desperation David felt then. He sighed. 

“It’s only if you want to Stevie— I won’t force you.” 

Stevie looked at him for a long moment. She still sported that nauseated expression, but a little colour had returned to her cheeks. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll give it a shot.”

David skated over and pulled her into a hug. He was physically incapable of doing any less. Stevie resisted but wrapped her arms around him too, spoke muffled into the shoulder of his sweater, “But I get to back out if at any point you get to be too big of a diva.”

“If that was your deal breaker, you never should have said yes.” But David was grinning, and Stevie smiled back up at him too.

“I see my team is already getting along.” 

Out of nowhere an unfamiliar, deep voice chimed. David looked over, startled, he and Stevie let go of each other. There was a man there— standing next to his mother, in a blue button down and straight-leg jeans. With his close-cropped brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and bright smile, he looked more like a Kohl’s catalogue model, or a substitute math teacher, than a skating coach. But that’s who he seemed to be, referring to David and Stevie as “his team.” After he nodded in greeting to Stevie, he turned and smiled at David, and held his gaze for a beat too long. David caught himself thinking that he had _kind eyes,_ and even though his love life had been a little nonexistent as of late, _that_ was no way to be thinking about a coach at all.

“I’m Patrick,” he said, with a dorky little wave.

“Brewer?” Stevie said, and when David turned to her he was puzzled to see her jaw was about to hit the ice.

He looked back at Patrick, who laughed and said, “I’m afraid so.” His cute blush had only gotten deeper. Again, _bad thought_. David had the distinct urge to pinch himself. 

“Where are we supposed to know you from?” David asked. 

“Not a big hockey fan?”

“Do I _look_ like one?” 

“Well, for someone whose family owns a rink…”

“Is everyone who owns a house supposed to know every interior designer?” 

Patrick looked taken aback for a second, but then he laughed again. It was genuine in a way that made David feel like Patrick was somehow charmed by him. It sent a flush of pride through his chest. “It’s not quite the same thing,” Patrick argued, “But I concede your point. I was uh, on the Leafs for a while, back in the day.” 

“ _On_ the Leafs?” Stevie scoffed, “Try MVP for two seasons in a row, Art Ross Trophy, and Stanley Cup Playoffs before ever making _captain._ You’re kind of a legend.” 

Patrick was blushing in earnest now. David averted his gaze. 

“We are very fortunate to have snatched Pat here to lead you two to victory,” his mother said then, her tone was a little terse, almost impatient to move on from this discussion. It raised David’s heckles. Anyway he was concerned why no one had asked the most pressing question yet. 

“If you were so good at hockey, what are you doing coaching ice dance, and what are you doing coaching _us_?”

“Ah, well,” Patrick fixed David with that look again, and that smile, “Hate to be a cliche but it’s what takes down all star athletes in the end isn’t it? Tragic injury.”

“And you have experience training ice dancers?” 

“Plenty.” Patrick’s tone was clipped suddenly, his smile tight. He looked over at Moira, who seemed to pick up on some unheard cue, clapping her hands together. 

“Well, now that introductions have been made, I am required elsewhere, and in my absence, the new team begins their first practice!”

The pit of dread grew in David’s stomach. His mother leaving meant that this was it. He was left unmoored— even if his best friend was still beside him, he had the distinct feeling of his family being gone. Stevie didn’t look any less nervous, though she’d at least stopped fawning over Patrick now. The three of them watched Moira leave, her red wig bobbing behind her, until the doors closed in her wake.

— 

Only ten minutes after Moira’s departure, David found himself with his ass flat against the ice, the cold seeping through the fabric of his pants, biting his skin. Meanwhile, Stevie and Patrick were doubled over laughing, their hysterics echoed through the rink. As his backside got colder, David felt his face becoming warmer. No one helped him as he slowly got back on his feet. 

Finally, Stevie and Patrick stopped laughing, gasping instead to catch their breath. Stevie looked at him, her lips trembling from holding back another fit. “Are you okay?” 

David scrambled for a comeback, but came up empty. “The ice was uneven,” he sniffed, smoothing down his sweater.

“Of course it was,” Patrick said, trying to make sincere an inherently sarcastic sentiment. David’s frown deepened. 

“I’m used to skating under certain conditions, and if someone could have told me the zamboni wasn’t going to run after those kids had their way with my ice then maybe I would be better prepared!"

Patrick just looked him, the corner of his mouth quirked slightly up, as if waiting for him to finish. When he was done, Patrick said, “You could have just told me you're not experienced with hydroblading, I don’t think any less of you, you know.”

David opened his mouth and snapped it shut. He was finding it increasingly futile to argue with this man. Instead he looked to Stevie, desperate for some back-up. But that traitor was no use. She fell casually into a lunge and skated low across the ice, folding her body over so that she was practically horizontal, and gracefully she pulled back up, coming to stand beside him.

“It’s harder than it looks,” she shrugged. 

Patrick beamed at her, clearly impressed, and David had the strangest sensation of _jealousy_. 

“It was fine,” David snapped, and he rolled his eyes. “How did you learn that, anyway?” 

Stevie shrugged, “I spend a lot of time looking for lost earrings, pocket change, you know.”

“Huh. Well. It’s nice to know I’ve been wasting my time and money on all these trainers when I should have just been picking up after the slobs that skate here!” 

Stevie looked entirely nonplussed by his outburst. “Yeah, David. I guess you should have.” 

Patrick was another story. He frowned at David now, for the first time not looking amused. And David could feel himself getting nervous before Patrick even spoke. “I don’t know if it’s you who’s wasting their time, David, or if it’s me and Stevie.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Patrick took a deep breath, resting his hands against the side of the rink. His grip was tight, frustrated, but clearly holding his anger back. Something about it made David want to push— see exactly where his limits were.

Finally, he spoke. “I understand that this has been a hard year for you, but we’re all trying to move on, to keep your career going. The least you could do is cooperate.” 

David crossed his arms over his chest. Patrick had a point. But David wasn’t ready to concede just yet. “I don’t think my mother is paying you to scold me.” 

Stevie sighed, “Patrick only said what we were both thinking.” 

Whirling around towards her, “So you’re picking _him_ over me as well? Nice to see where your loyalties lie, partner.”

“Okay,” Patrick held his hands up now in front of him, in a placating gesture, “Let’s not fight on the first day. Please?”

David looked at Patrick then, and at last the fight died in him. He knew he was being difficult, but he justified it to himself— he was testing the waters with this new guy. He’d taken an impressive amount of David’s pestering— even with Stevie present to back him up. 

“Alright,” David said, his voice going soft. Patrick’s eyes lit up immediately— everything he felt showed up on his face, it was kind of endearing. David was almost sorry to see his little smile go when he said, “On the condition that you tell us why you’re really here.”

That flush was creeping back across his cheeks. “Come on, David. You know why I’m here.” 

“Um. No. I know you’re a former hockey player who dresses like a small business owner. I know literally nothing else about you.”

Patrick looked down at his clothes then, with a slight furrow in his brow. He seemed to flounder for a response, which is when Steve piped up. “You weren’t in the press much after your hockey career ended. Did you coach for someone else?” 

“Yeah,” Patrick said then. It was a little too loud, and his voice echoed through the rink. He seemed to be cognizant of that and blushed, looking away. He rubbed his hand nervously down the back of his neck, and winced when he said, “My ex-fiancee, Rachel.”

“Wait,” Stevie said, muffled through the hand covering her mouth, “Rachel—”

“Yes,” Patrick interrupted, terse, “Three time silver medallist and last year’s gold medalist in women’s ice dance.”

David was momentarily stunned into silence. He didn’t know much about solo figure skating, even though he existed in such close proximity to it. His interest in skating extended mostly to _doing_ it, and it was rare that he watched others, rarer still that he kept track of individuals. He left that to his mother and sister, or rather he _used to_ leave it to them. But even he had heard of this famous Rachel. He realized he should feel… impressed… have a change of heart towards Patrick since he’d clearly left a lucrative career to coach them. But there were several problems.

“You were her coach, and you were engaged to her?” David kept his tone as neutral as possible, but there was no way the question couldn’t come out accusatory. It wasn’t that he had a lot of ground to stand on regarding… conventional relationships. Even then, to hear about this quasi-scandal from someone who looked so _wholesome_ as Patrick did was a shock. 

Patrick’s face was redder than ever. “It was a bad idea for a lot of reasons. It’s obviously why I had to stop coaching her, and we ended our relationship— we’d been seeing each other on and off for a long time before I ever started coaching her— look I won’t make excuses. It was a bad situation, and after it was over I thought I’d just retire, or use my business degree or something— but then Moira reached out to me and I thought I’d take a chance.” 

David smirked, he knew he had been right about Patrick’s MBA energy. But the smile fell off his face when Patrick spoke again. 

“I understand if you don’t want me to coach you because of this I— I can talk to Moira.”

“No,” David said, too quick, too fast, and his own face started to feel hot. “I mean. Look it doesn’t matter to me.” He turned to Stevie. 

She shook her head. “Me neither.” And all the breath left David’s body in a sudden, relieved rush. 

He turned back to Patrick, who looked a little less ready to run. A small smile was even back on his face. “This really means a lot, you guys, thank you.” His gaze landed on David, held there for a second too long, before he looked away. David was left feeling strangely warm inside. 

“So, coach, what do you have in store for us?” Stevie asked. 

He smiled wider now, and the warmth inside David’s chest spread. He seemed be waiting for David, and that was all it took to break David’s trance. He rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever it is, I am willing to cooperate.” He smiled a little, his lips pressed together tight, “Within reason, of course.” 

Patrick nodded, feigning seriousness. “Oh, I’m very reasonable, David, don’t worry.”

He turned then, went further back behind the rink, and the first notes of a dreaded Mozart waltz began to filter through the room. It appeared that their training would be going back to basics, which smarted just a little for someone who had just been a championship win away from the Olympics. 

David realized then that he would certainly be worrying, quite a lot actually. 

—

The ice beneath Alexis’s blades felt solid, but her legs took a second to get the memo. They wobbled as she made her way unsteadily on her skates. She took a deep breath, exhaling through pursed lips, her brow set and determined as she made her first cursory loop around the rink. She relished the way the cold seeped into her skin, through her thin cardigan and leggings. When she finally rounded her way back to where her mother waited for her behind the glass, there was a smile on her face, stretching muscles that had gone unused, and a great glowing confidence that she had honestly forgotten existed. 

She was ready to do this. On her own. It was time. 

“Looks like somebody is getting reacquainted with her old abode,” Moira cooed.

“It feels good to be back.” Alexis sighed, content for the first time in a long time. 

“Your physical therapy has paid dividends it seems. I was afraid we wouldn’t see the same flexibility you once had!”

“It’s thanks to Ted,” Alexis said immediately, her heart fluttering a little traitorously as she thought about him, “He’s like, a total miracle worker.” 

Moira smiled, tight-lipped, and glanced down at her leg. “And you aren’t feeling any pain whatsoever?” 

“None, Mom, I swear.” Alexis tried to keep the whine out of her voice but she wasn’t sure how well she managed. 

“Well, then, I don’t see why we shouldn’t jump right into the new program your convalescence has given me the opportunity to ruminate upon!” Moira shuffled back behind the boards where the music system was tucked away, and a well-worn Tchaikovsky piece started to play. 

Alexis could feel her muscles responding to the song, every fond memory of training was coursing back through her. 

“Start with your spins,” her mother instructed, and Alexis let her feet lead her into the movement. 

Slowly, Alexis found her rhythm. Focusing on a fixed point in the room— at the moment it happened to be the arc of some real estate agent’s eyebrow, his ad had been plastered against the boards of the rink for ages now, so it was a familiar sight. Then she let her body tilt into the spin, slowly gaining momentum. She watched stripes of colour whiz by her, and tried not to let the giddiness of the feeling distract her. Crossing her arms around her chest she folded herself down, still carried by the spin, and bent her knee. Then, she carefully lifted one leg and used her arms to support it as it rested horizontally, and she eased into her sit spin. 

A searing pain shot up her leg, the one still anchored to the ice, and at once everything went hazy. Losing all focus immediately she shot her arms out on either side of her to break her fall as she landed with her back flat against the ice. Distantly, she could hear her mother calling her name, tone pitched up in hysterics. She couldn’t respond— she couldn’t do much of anything— and just tried to breathe through the pain.

Then a shadow cast along her vision, and two black high-heeled boots came into view. Her mother had rushed up to her on the ice, and kneeled in front of her, helping her sit up. A bottle of water was pushed into her hands and Alexis took it gratefully, drinking with her eyes closed until the dizziness finally subsided. 

“Are you alright, Alexis?” She placed a soothing hand on Alexis shoulder, and the feeling grounded her. “Shall I alert the hospital?’

Alexis shook her head, a little too emphatically, and the dizziness started to return. She breathed carefully. “No, no, Mom. I’m fine.”

“What happened?”

“I just got a little dizzy,” Alexis lied. She knew she shouldn’t, but she was more afraid of the consequences of confessing the truth. If she couldn’t do a simple spin without collapsing, it didn’t bode well for her chances the rest of the season, and she just couldn’t bring herself to accept that— not yet. 

“Are you sure it had nothing to do with your ankle?” 

“No, I’m sure.” 

“If you won’t talk to me about it then maybe we should get you to see Ted a little sooner.” 

Panic shot through her chest. “No! Not Ted. Don’t tell him anything about this!”

“If it had nothing to do with your injury, then whyever not?”

Alexis sighed, closing her eyes tight and pressing the heels of her hands against her forehead. “Okay. Fine. It was my ankle. It started hurting. I tried to skate through it but I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

“The only thing that you should be penitent for is not telling me immediately that you were in pain! Alexis, why would you continue if you were in pain?”

Embarrassment threatened to overwhelm her. She didn’t want to sit here, choking on the truth anymore. “Because— because I didn’t want you to regret choosing me!”

“Whatever could you mean by that?”

“You chose to train me instead of David— you made him work with someone else even though he’s fine, and he’s an amazing skater. He’s always been better than me and he’s a shoo-in for the Olympics. I’m the broken one, I’m the problem. I didn’t want to keep reminding you of that.”

“Alexis,” her mother chided, “You are not broken. Far from it. Do you want to know why I decided to work with you?”

“Yeah, actually, I would like to know. David’s your favourite kid. I was sure you’d pick him.” 

“Now, Alexis! You know your father and I don’t pick favourites!”

“What’s my middle name?”

“We aren’t talking about that right now, are we? Wasn’t there a more pressing query you had for me?”

“Ok fine. Why did you pick me?”

“Because I see myself in you. I was in your position, you know, not terribly long ago.” 

“When you won your medal?”

“The Nordic air was crisp and revivifying on the morning of my Lillehammer victory, but you’ve heard this old tale countless times.” 

Alexis rolled her eyes fondly, normally she hated hearing about their mother’s short-lived skating fame— Moira Rose could stretch a story about a bronze medal victory for ages. So much so that teenage Alexis and David had lists of trigger words they’d avoid bringing up in conversation. Anything vaguely Scandinavian, from IKEA, to Thor, to Swedish Fish, or even democratic socialism could set Moira off on a tangent about her time in Norway. Alexis couldn’t remember when she and David had grown so tired of it. As kids, they brought it up as often as they could, savouring every retelling the story like they were hearing it for the first time. Alexis would do anything to be that kid again, have that same wonder and optimism and hope— because the dream about being at the Olympics herself had never really gone away.

So she asked her mom, “Tell it again, just this once, please?”

Moira sat down on the ice with her, and Alexis hugged her knees to her chest. She thought, fleetingly, that they must look ridiculous, huddled here in the middle of the rink, but she couldn’t bring herself to care as she let her mother’s voice wash over her.

“Nancy and I were on our absolute worst behaviour the night before— against both of our trainers’ commands we enjoyed deep golden beers and breathtaking alpine views and gossiped like two teenagers at a slumber party.”

“But it all worked out in the end.” 

“Certainly! Silver and bronze— it was a glorious moment for the both of us.”

“Can you tell me more about the program, and the double axel that you were scared you weren’t going to land?”

“Yes, yes, I can tell you all about that Alexis. But perhaps we might relocate to a venue that won’t induce frostbite on both our derrieres.” 

Alexis felt the chill seep into her skin all at once, not having noticed it until it was pointed out. But now she shivered. “Maybe you’re right.” But then Moira stood and she hesitated still. She was scared to put pressure on her ankle again. If it hurt… she would know for sure that she was in trouble. She wanted to delay that certainty for as long as possible. But her mother held out her hand, and trembling, Alexis took it and slowly rose to her feet. 

By some miracle, her ankle was okay again. She tested it out, putting an experimental amount of pressure on the joint, but it didn’t sting. Relief flooded her chest and she felt the tension leave her in a single exhale. 

Moira was almost already out the door by the time Alexis stepped off of the ice, and Alexis hesitated still, casting her glance back across the ice, determined to come back to it stronger this time. She made a silent promise to herself that she wouldn’t fall again.

“Alexis? Are you coming?”

“Just a minute!”

She leaned down to untie her skates. She wouldn’t fall again. 

—

“Cafe Tropical? Of all places…” David wrinkled his nose as he paged through the disgusting, enormous plastic menu. 

“You said no to Waffle House!” Stevie protested. 

“Just because I have no interest in supporting chain restaurants, doesn’t mean I don’t want an independent option with some class.” 

“You also didn’t want to get up early enough to get a table at any of your fancy options,” Patrick pointed out. David narrowed his eyes, but Patrick smiled back incandescently at him, looking unabashedly amused as David pouted. This was suspicious, no one should be cheerful at this time. 

“I think if I have to wake up at six in the morning for your practices, I reserve the right to want to sleep in on the weekends.” David sniffed and continued to read the menu. 

“And I thought the weekends were the one time we wouldn’t have to see each other but… guess I was wrong on that front.” Stevie picked at the linoleum on the table, in an equally surly mood. 

Patrick sighed, forever patient, unerringly affable. “I thought it would be nice to hang out a bit outside of the rink. You know, get to know each other.”

“Stevie and I already know each other,” David said, still not looking up.

He heard Patrick sigh again. “Ok, I’ll admit my motives were ultimately self-serving, but is it a crime to try and get to know my team a little better?”

“Only if you try to marry one of us,” Stevie said, and that’s when David’s gaze shot up to her, and flickered over to Patrick. Stevie looked stunned at her own words and a hand shot up to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. 

After a beat of silence, Patrick burst out into a laugh. The bubble of tension that had surrounded them had been effectively burst and even David laughed in a surprised little chuckle. Stevie started giggling too, and at one point she _snorted_ , which sent the rest of them into hysterics. They only stopped, wiping the corners of their eyes, when their waiter came to take their order.

“Um,” David said, still getting his breathing back to normal, “Do you have any plant-based protein options?”

The waiter looked back at him blankly. David sighed, “I’ll take that as a no, then. I’ll have the pancakes with a side of eggs.” The look of relief on the waiter’s face was immense, and he took down the rest of their orders hurriedly and rushed off. 

David felt Patrick’s curious gaze on him then, and looked up to see him looking back, that same constant amusement alight in his eyes. Somehow it didn’t ever feel like Patrick was laughing _at_ him, but rather that something about him was delightful to Patrick. David wasn’t sure he’d ever _delighted_ anyone, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Clearly, if the butterflies in his stomach were any indication.

“So,” David found himself speaking, needing to fill the silence, “You wanted to know us better, apparently, so what do you want to know?”

“Gosh, so many questions, where do I even begin?”

“Whatever it is, please just ask _something_ ,” Stevie said, “The food is taking forever to get here. Distract us. It’ll make the time go faster.”

Patrick laughed. “Okay, okay. Well, we can start with an easy one. How did you two become friends?” 

Stevie looked to David and David looked back and they shared a moment back and forth asking the question with their eyes _do you want to go— should I—?_ Ultimately, they both started talking at once, before Stevie waved her hand and went, “You go.” Patrick’s grin only got wider as he waited for his answer. 

“Well, we met under… interesting circumstances.” 

“Interesting is a word… for it.” 

“My family owned a bunch of video rental stores?” 

“Yeah, Rose Video,” Patrick said. David looked at him, surprised, but continued. 

“Well, we had a lot of money, obviously, and that meant elite skating facilities, the best coaches money could buy, present company included.” David smiled as that startled a laugh out of Patrick, but he continues. “But then our dad’s business manager ran off with all our money, and we ended up losing everything. Obviously, Alexis and I needed to keep skating— whatever we were winning from our competitions was keeping the family afloat. So we found this awful little rink where we would go and practice with our new coach, my mother. Of course after hours with just my mother and my sister I was clearly desperate to find someone, _anyone_ else to talk to. Lucky for me, this rink had one miserable employee.” And with that David gestured to Stevie.

She looked back from craning her neck to look out for their waiter, and with a slight delay understood her cue to continue the story. “The rink was my aunt’s, she died and left it to me, and um, I’m in my twenties and can’t exactly run a rink by myself. Mr. Rose stepped in and eventually we got the place to where it is now— and ooh, I see the food coming.”

“Wow,” Patrick said, smiling at David, “that’s quite the story.”

David nodded, and for a second basked in the way Patrick looked at him. Thankfully, the incoming plates for food provided enough of a distraction to stop and breathe and reevaluate. David wasn’t sure how much longer this strange feeling with Patrick would persist, but he was terrified of what would happen both if he addressed this feeling or if he let it fester. So he did something slightly out of pocket. 

As the plates were being laid down in front of them, he blurted, “And of course there was that one, disastrous time that we kind of dated.” 

Stevie nearly choked on the mouthful of waffle she had just taken, but managed to swallow and roll her eyes, “Generous to call what we did ‘dating.’”

“Well what would you call it?”

“A few ill-conceived and drug-addled hookups before we realized we were each others’ only friends, and needed to stop if we wanted any hope of staying friends?” 

David had to give it to her. “No. Yeah, that’s a better way of putting it. A little wordy.”

Patrick was silent for this exchange, fork digging into his eggs. But David noticed a strange tightness to his features and a slight blush high on his cheeks. 

David had no opportunity to address it, as they tucked into their food and conversation was a little more sparse. Patrick asked Stevie more about how she’d gotten into skating, seemed impressed at her story about being a child prodigy who’d had to give up when money got tight. Patrick asked David about the season last year, pressing on a subject David had thought until now was still sore, but was actually easier to talk about by the day. Stevie pried into Patrick’s hockey career with a kind of interest and enthusiasm David had rarely seen from her.

“How heavy is the Art Ross Trophy?”

“Oh well, you can carry it for a photo for sure.” 

“Is Gretzky actually kind of an asshole?” 

“I don’t know, honestly, he’s been nice every time I’ve met him.”

Stevie nodded, thoughtfully. David looked between the two of them and thought it wise not to interject. But his general quietness at the table didn’t stop Patrick from asking _him_ questions. 

“Did you and Alexis ever try death spirals?”

“We did a few in one of our short programs when we were younger, but Alexis never liked them much.”

He turned to Stevie, “Would you two ever want to try them?”

Stevie shrugged, “I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” 

“I wouldn’t drop you or anything,” David said, on instinct, and a hush fell over the table. 

“No, I know you wouldn’t,” Stevie reassured him. 

But Patrick looked at him curiously. David sighed.

“No one wants to believe me but Alexis was distracted going into that lift. I was holding onto her as best as I could, but it’s a two-person effort.”

“And nerves were high,” Patrick supplied. David looked at him, a little surprised. He wasn’t sure if he was ready yet to talk about the constant surges of anxiety that coursed through him at a near constant. So he just nodded.

“Hey,” Stevie said, and David dragged his attention up from the table. “I trust you,” she said, and he believed her. Patrick only smiled at the two of them, likely not wanting to intrude on the moment. But then a feeling came over David. 

“I trust you too,” he said, first looking at Stevie, and then catching Patrick’s eye, “Both of you.” 

Something shifted fundamentally in that dingy little diner that morning. A team was born.

—

The mood in the rink was a lot lighter then next time the three of them met. Patrick was annoyingly as chipper as ever, now clad in increasingly dad-like sweaters as the weather began to turn. David didn’t want to think about how soft they made him look. That wasn’t helpful for anyone. 

Their program was starting to take shape. The only hurdle left was perfecting their lifts. Or rather, _doing_ any lifts at all. All that had happened with Alexis had, up until now, still felt too raw to broach the topic. But now David was assured of Stevie’s trust, and of Patrick’s, and he knew they had to get to them eventually. 

They couldn’t run from them forever. 

They started off with their regular routine, gentle notes of Vivaldi singing through the speakers, the ice fresh and smooth from a zamboni right before their timeslot. Stevie whirled past him in a flurry of black hair, coming close so he could wrap his long fingers around the soft fabric of her hoodie, and then skating back away. David watched for the spark in Stevie’s eye just before they looped and jumped in sync. 

Then, they skated away from each other. Patrick’s voice was dim amid his concentration, but his direction was clear. David made his stance as solid as he could on two blades, and waited for Stevie to skate nearer. He leaned on her momentum, taking hold of her torso carefully as he flexed his arms and lifted.

Stevie laughed, startled and bright, from above him. He breathed through the few seconds of the action and carefully lowered her. He moved his grip to her arms, and then her hands, and they stared at each other, just holding on and smiling. They’d done it.

Letting go, they turned back to Patrick who was beaming with pride. 

“There we go! First lift! That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

David shook his head, unable to stop from smiling, and breathless from his exhilaration still.

“It was fine,” he found himself babbling, “I can do this. We can do this!” He turned to Stevie and she was smiling too. 

“Let’s go again,” she said, with a determined nod of the head, “I was a little rough on the takeoff. I can do better.” 

“You were amazing, Stevie,” Patrick admonished, “but I like your spirit. Let’s try it again.”

And they did. The morning was spent doing lift after lift, perfecting their form until David’s arms were too sore to go on, and their time on the ice was up. As he unlaced his skates next to Stevie on the bench, Patrick came up to them.

“I feel like the team has earned a nice lunch after this. What do you guys say to Cafe Tropical? My treat?” 

“Yeah, for sure,” David said. He was never one to turn down food. 

But Stevie hesitated, “I’d love to but I’ve got desk duty for the next few hours.”

“You’re still working at the rink?” David was surprised. 

“Yeah,” Stevie said, “It’s kind of my job. And your parents said I didn’t have to leave it until we started competing.”

“You _want_ to stay?” 

“Look, I didn’t sign up for an interrogation right now, David. I just can’t go to lunch.” And with that, and her feet jammed back into her unlaced boots, Stevie stomped off.

David looked up at Patrick. “Okay, I don’t know what that was about.”

Patrick shrugged, “Let’s talk about it over lunch.” 

—

Alexis liked late nights at the rink best. Even if the bright wash of fluorescent lighting did nothing for her, in these times she was somewhat beyond herself. She was just the movement of her body, she was just the feeling of the cool air, the slide of the ice beneath her feet, the scraping sound of her heels turning and toes stopping. 

She liked them best when she was alone, but having her parents sitting in the bleachers wasn’t terrible company on a night like this. She was showing them the beginnings of the short program she and Moira had been putting together. It was set to a lilting Debussy piece, delicate flutes and strings carrying her like a wisp of gossamer across the ice. She was already fantasizing about the costume that would go with it— even if that was a little far off still. 

Gearing up for the final double axel, she whirled though the air, coming to land on the ice with a definitive _thunk._ A slight twinge of pain shot up her ankle, but she had enough adrenaline coursing through her to make it easy to ignore. She was sure she barely winced as she came into her final position at the centre of the ice, and her smile was easy when she heard her parents cheer. 

“Bravo Alexis, bravo!” her father said as she skated up to the edge of the rink. He pressed a bouquet of flowers into her hands. She breathed in their fresh, sweet smell, and couldn’t help herself from wrapping her arms around her dad in a big hug. And after that she turned and gave her mother a hug as well. 

“You did marvellously, dear,” her mother said as Alexis emerged from her embrace. Her mother smiled but then looked furtively down at her ankle before meeting Alexis’s gaze again. “Your ankle isn’t troubling you now is it?”

Alexis bit her lip. Now that she thought about it, the pain was starting to be a little more noticeable. But she shook her head, stubborn even though she knew better. She just wanted to enjoy this moment, her short program complete, her old life back in sight— was that such a crime?

“Okay, if you’re sure, Alexis,” her father said, then, “That was really spectacular.”

Alexis knew the tone in his voice. “You have to go now?”

“Yes,” he closed his eyes, eyebrows falling, defeated, “I’m sorry, I know we said celebratory dinner but I’ve got to cover for Roland tonight, and I need to install the new generator before the storm comes.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” Alexis said, her smile tight.

“Listen, Alexis, I am so proud of you, I really am.” Alexis sighed and thanked him and he was gone. 

“Afraid it’s going to be just you and me, Alexis,” Moira said, “Shall I go get the car?” 

Alexis turned to the clock then, it only read 7:15. “Aren’t our reservations at eight?” 

“Why, yes, and I suppose the restaurant is only ten minutes away. You’re inquiring that I let you practice more, aren’t you?” 

Alexis wasn’t sure why she felt slightly guilty about it but she nodded. “If it would be okay.”

“Only if you’re sure about that ankle.” Alexis tested it out. She barely noticed the pain anymore.

“Alright. I’ll meet you outside when you’re ready. And please do take a quick shower beforehand, Alexis.”

Rolling her eyes she stepped back onto the ice. It wasn’t that she was a masochist or anything, but she wanted to see how well she could skate through the pain. What was she going to do if it started hurting like this at a competition? It certainly wasn’t enough to be worth throwing in the towel. A voice in the back of her head, which sounded suspiciously like Ted’s, warned her that a little pain now could be indicative of a larger problem. Actually, that voice of Ted’s was really loud. She stopped suddenly in the middle of the rink. 

Why did it sound like Ted was here? She turned around. 

It’s because he was. 

“Alexis! Hey!” 

Tamping down on the unbelievable burst of joy in her chest, Alexis skated closer, feeling magnetically drawn. She stopped a respectable meter away. 

“Ted, oh my god, what are you doing here?”

“Your mom told me that you had gotten together your short program and that you were going to skate it tonight, but I had an emergency down at the clinic and couldn’t make it in time.”

“But you still came?”

“Yeah, I was just hoping I could catch you anyway. I know we don’t have an appointment for a while but I just wanted to check in.” 

No one had ever just wanted to _check in_ with Alexis before. 

“How’s the ankle holding up?”

It was with a cold jolt of reality that she realized he was only checking up on her because he had to. He didn’t harbour any feelings for her. She kept having to reminder herself of that.

“Oh it’s fine. Obviously it’s been under some more stress lately but um, I’m definitely sure that it’s probably okay.” 

Ted’s smile faltered a little. “What do you mean probably okay?”

Alexis saw nothing wrong with her statement. “I mean like it’s probably fine.” 

“Has it given any indication that it might _not_ be fine?” 

“I mean it hurt a little when I landed the double axel at the end of my program but nothing serious.”

Ted sighed and buried his face in his hands. “Alexis,” he said her name muffled through his fingers, “You have to tell me these things.”

“Ted, it’s literally fine. I can skate, it’s not bothering me like that.”

He looked up at her. “You and I both know that this isn’t how this works.”

A spike of dread shot thought Alexis’s chest, and she became instantly defensive. “I think I know how my own body works, okay? I’m skating, I’m fine.”

“Will you at least let me take a look at it?” 

“What… like, right now?” 

“Just to check for any swelling.” Ted wrung his hands, expectant. Though Alexis was sure this isn’t what he’d planned on when he came here. But Alexis could only take his cute little pleading expression for so long. Sighing she pushed past him and walked towards the benches. She sat down, turning to lift her leg up and quickly untie her skate. She barely kept from hissing as her foot protested as she pulled it out. 

“Fuck,” she said, looking at it. Even she knew that meant it was swollen. Still, Ted came to sit beside her, and with the gentlest hands he touched her ankle. Alexis would blame her ensuing shiver on the cold of the rink, even more palpable now that her sweat was cooling on her skin. 

She looked expectantly as Ted carefully maneuvered and prodded her ankle, his hands sending sparks of electricity through her skin. He looked up at her, his mouth set in a grim line. 

Alexis took a shuddering breath. “Is it really bad?”

“It’s not great, Alexis,” he said, not looking a her.

“I let it heal properly, I waited ages. I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“Sometimes it’s not what you did. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do to change the rate at which the bone heals. Especially if you go from recovery right into something as high intensity as skating.”

Alexis buried her face in her hands. All at once she felt totally, completely defeated. 

“Hey,” Ted called, but she couldn't make herself look up. “It’s not all bad.” 

Now her head sprung up, and she looked at Ted, blinking away the tears gathering in her eyes. If he noticed he didn’t say anything and Alexis was infinitely grateful. He only smiled at her kindly, those eyes of his looked at her like no one ever had before.

“Ice the ankle, and rest it for a couple of weeks. I know your first qualifier isn’t for a month. Just give it as much rest as you can until then.” 

“Ted, I need to rehearse.” 

“Of course you do, I’m not saying don’t rehearse at all. Just pare it down as much as you can. I know you’re already perfect so it shouldn’t be too much of an issue.” 

Unforgivably, Alexis began to feel her face getting hot, and she smiled helplessly at the compliment. Still she tried to deflect it. “You don’t know that. You didn’t even see me.” 

“But I know you, I know how determined and strong you are. I know you can do this.” Ted said, his voice suddenly choked with sincerity. And Alexis felt the smile slip off her face as she caught Ted’s gaze, something heavy and meaningful passing between them before Ted looked away, his face growing red. In an impulsive moment, Alexis reached for his hand, still resting, looped around her ankle, and twined her fingers loosely with his. He looked up at her again, and he opened his mouth to say something, and Alexis leaned closer when—

“Alexis! You’re still here?” Johnny Rose’s voice came booming into the room and Alexis and Ted startled apart instantly. Letting go of their hands and sliding to opposite ends of the bench like two teens caught making out. God, Alexis _wishes_ that’s what it had been.

She turned to her father with gritted teeth. “Yeah mine and mom’s reservation isn’t until eight.”

“Well it’s ten to eight now, you’d better get going!” 

“Ugh, ew no I wanted to shower before.”

“I don’t think you’re going to have time if you want to make it. Oh, hello there Ted.”

“Hi, Mr. Rose,” Ted’s smile was tight, nervous. He looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. Alexis didn’t have time to feel sorry for him, she still did. 

“Ted just came by to check on my ankle.” 

“Oh no, it’s not hurting again is it? Do you want me to bring the crutches?” 

Alexis sighed. The day she had finally stopped needing to use the crutches she had felt so invincible, like she would never go back. She had told her dad to throw them away. But of course, he kept them. She looked for a second at Ted, he wasn’t looking back at her but she knew he was waiting for her answer. There was a right and a wrong one here. 

“Yes, Dad, the crutches would be nice.” 

Ted’s gaze still lingered on the ice, but he was smiling now, and that alone was worth the hit to Alexis’s ego. Her father left to retrieve them, and Ted rose from his seat then too. 

“Look. I should go,” he still wouldn’t look at her, his tone clipped and wobbly. “Rest. Think about what I said. And good luck.” 

Alexis wasn’t sure there was anything she could say back so she only nodded, glum, and listened to him leave. She focused on the way her ankle was still stinging, if only to distract from everything else she really didn’t want to think about and really didn’t want to feel. 

Like what on earth Ted had meant when he told her, “I know you.” 

—

David opened his eyes on the morning of his 30th birthday, rubbed the sleep from them, only to peer at zero messages on his phone. He deflated instantly, before remembering he had chosen a job that made him get up at six in the morning. He looked out the window where the sky was howling and whipping snowflakes. The weather felt foreboding for the day ahead. He practiced a meditation routine he had learned from an app. He tried to go through his morning skincare and push it out of his mind.

In the thirty minutes it took him to get to the rink— he hand’t checked his phone again. He was a little proud at himself for his restraint, but then that feeling of pride reminded him that he could be checking his phone, and he did, only to be disappointed once again.

It didn’t matter. He’d be seeing his whole family at the rink this morning anyway. Pushing open the double doors, his father was reliably perched behind the front desk, tapping away that the computer, one digit at a time, as he peered at the screen through his glasses. When he caught sight of his son, Johnny Rose smiled. 

“Good morning, David. Nice to see you up and at ‘em this morning.”

“Morning,” David said, and waited for a pointed silence. “Kind of a special morning, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” his father asked, bushy eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion.

“Yeah. It is.” David waited a beat longer. But then his irritation proved to be too much so he whirled away to the locker rooms without another word. 

Before he could get there, he passed by his mother and Alexis. They were in the middle of someterse conversation, Alexis still on the ice, and Moira leaning across the gate. He walked up to the two of them, his height and presence obtrusive enough to turn both their heads. 

“Hi,” he said, to his mother and his sister’s blank stares. 

“Hi,” Alexis said back, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“Hello, David,” his mother said pleasantly. 

And when the silence stretched out, too long, between the three of them, David’s frustration mounted. “Oh, my god,” he said, before storming off. 

“David!” his mother called after him. “Whatever is the matter with that boy?” 

“I have literally no clue,” he heard Alexis say, distantly.

Soon, his irritation faded into plain sadness. It didn’t feel good to be forgotten. Especially not on his birthday. But maybe this was growing up. And it’s not like it was the first time his family had forgotten his birthday. Back when they were still ridiculously wealthy, David had spent most of his teenage birthdays at big, anonymous parties, with his parents and sister in whole different countries, continents away and far too busy to bother with anything as trivial as his birthday. But things were supposed to be different after they’d lost everything. They’d gotten closer. 

He had just let his guard down, started to expect too much. He shrugged on the blocky wool cardigan he’d bought himself for the occasion, a J.W. Anderson piece he’d been eyeing for a while. He could be his own birthday, and he remembered he still had a spare Ambien to two for a good night’s sleep tonight, and maybe a little cry. 

Waddling in his skates he arrived at the edge of the ice to find Patrick there, but Stevie still missing. Patrick was sipping a piping mug of tea, in his own well-fitting, if plain, blue sweater. When he saw David, his whole face lit up. 

“Good morning,” he said, as David eased onto the ice. 

“Is it?” David couldn’t help but shoot back. Patrick looked confused but also amused, that way he always looked when David was in a mood.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“I— sure. Go ahead.” 

“Have your parents ever forgotten your birthday?”

He seemed to think about it for a while. “No. Never.” 

“So like they call you and celebrate with you, without fail, _every_ time?” 

“Sometimes they even surprise me and come visit, you know, if it ever falls on a weekend.” 

“Right.” David stared at his feet as he skated in idle circles. 

“I’m kind of gathering that it might be your birthday.”

“What gave it away?”

He laughed a little then. “Well, happy birthday.” 

David gave him a tight smile in return, but it quickly fell off his face. Patrick continued, “Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Nope. Just a night in. All to myself.” David winced as he said it. It was impossible to not make himself seem like the saddest, loneliest man alive. 

“Well why don’t we go for dinner then?”

“You don’t have to do that,” David said, quickly, as a direct response to the warmth running unbidden through his body. 

“No, I want to.” And David felt his heart swell. 

“Well, okay, if you insist.” 

“How about eight, at the Cafe?”

At that David had to laugh. He understood it wasn’t that Patrick didn’t want to spring for anywhere nicer, it was just that that awful little place had kind of become _theirs_. So David nodded, and pointedly didn’t look at the bright smile on Patrick’s face, mirroring his own. Luckily the tension in that moment was broken by Stevie’s blustering in, red faced and apologetic for her lateness. Patrick only laughed and forgave her instantly and she looked a little surprised. 

“Someone’s in a good mood then, today,” she muttered to David, once she made it on the ice. 

David only shrugged noncommittally back, focusing on the steady beat of his heart, picking up because of the exertion, the adrenaline of skating— and _only_ that.

—

“What do you mean you’re not coming to my birthday dinner?” 

Stevie whirled around from where she was untying her skates. “I don’t think I was invited, David.” 

“Of course you are, it’s my birthday!”

Stevie sighed. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but this isn’t a party. Patrick _asked you out_ for your birthday.” 

“Oh, my god. He did not _ask me out_. He’s our coach!”

“I know that, but I just meant I think he wants you guys to go for dinner, just the two of you.” 

“Did he tell you that?” 

“No, but he asked you to Cafe Tropical, did he not?”

“What does that have anything to do with it?”

“It’s sentimental! He’s clearly trying to make this something that’s meaningful to the two of you.”

“But you’ve been to the Cafe with us.”

“Yeah, _once_. You two go every other morning!”

David was a little stumped at that. It’s not like Stevie wasn’t invited to those. She just never came. Before he could point that out, Stevie blustered on. 

“Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t. I have that Canadian Women in Skating thing tonight.”

“Damn it.” She was right. He’d known about that for weeks. 

“I’ll say hi to your sister for you."

“Don’t bother.” He crossed his arms around his chest and faced away, pouting.

“David,” she called, and he turned back around. “Happy birthday. Have a good time. Don’t do anything stupid.”

What could he possibly do?

Hours later, seated across from Patrick, David felt a little underdressed in his sweater. Patrick made a joke about the Cafe’s dinner jacket policy, and David had laughed a little, nervous and distracted. Patrick sensed immediately that he was ill at ease. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You seem a little on edge.” 

David cast around quickly for an excuse, and a piece of the truth slipped out instead. “I think I’m just still kind of… I don’t know. Feeling weird about my whole family forgetting.” 

Patrick did something David didn’t expect, reaching out and placing a hand over David’s where it rested on the table. It sent a jolt through David’s heart, but David didn’t recoil. It didn’t feel like an advance, it felt friendly and comforting at the same time. David felt his tongue loosening, his heart spilling over at the point where their hands met. 

“It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened. But I thought things were different now. And it’s hard to feel like it’s not tied up with my mom choosing to coach Alexis instead of me, a decision which, by the way, she never once _really_ explained to me.”

“Hey, I know I’ll never be Moira Rose but I can start wearing wigs to training if that would help?” 

David was helpless to smile at that, but he still rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I think Matilda would look great on you. Or maybe Jacqueline.” 

“Are either of those ones redheads, cause I really don’t have the colouring for that.” 

David winced, “Ooh, yeah you’re right. No strictly blondes and brunettes, and maybe a curly moment for you.”

Patrick grinned, “My hair’s already curly.”

David’s mouth fell open in shock. “Then _why_ on earth do you cut it like that?”

Patrick shrugged a single shoulder, but he moved his hand from David’s to run it self consciously over his head. “I don’t know, efficiency?” 

David missed the point of contact between them. He flexed his hand and drew it back towards him, wrapping it around his wineglass hearing the clink of his rings against the stem. Patrick’s eyes followed the movement, and lingered there.

“I’m the one who does all the stunts, so I don’t know why you’re so worried about efficiency.” 

The moment of tension was broken then and Patrick laughed. He threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you’ve convinced me. I’ll grow it out.” 

David tried not to look too smug. “I promise you it’ll be very popular with the ladies.” 

“Oh, you would know?” There was a challenge in Patrick’s question, but also the beginnings of a flush on his cheeks. 

“I have excellent taste, Patrick,” David sniffed, “And that transcends gender.” 

If he was surprised he didn’t show it. Only smiled in that way he always did, guileless and fond. He looked down at his own beer, studied it like he was counting all the golden bubbles floating to the top of the glass. Then he asked, rather abruptly, “Are you seeing anyone, then?” 

“Oh god no,” David said, right away. He flushed and took a sip of his wine. “I never date during training. I can’t afford the distraction.”

“Do you date once the competitions start, then?” 

“Okay, _date_ is generous. It’s more like one-off hookups. I’m not really built for relationships I don’t think. I’ve been told that a lot, at least.” 

A twist to Patrick’s lips, a furrow in his brow, and something in his gaze that looked a little too close to _pity_ for David’s comfort had him backtracking.

“I mean you’ve known me for a few months. It’s right about now that people really start to get sick of me.” David wasn’t sure why he was being so self-deprecating right now. He hoped he was being funny but Patrick wasn’t laughing. 

“I’m not sick of you David,” he said, his voice uncommonly fierce. David wasn’t sure what he should be doing with his face. He took another sip of his wine. It was his third glass. Patrick had made an interesting choice getting a bottle for the table considering he drank beer. But then again, David wasn’t exactly complaining, he was only starting to get a little light-headed. 

“Well that’s good to hear,” he said, trying desperately to bring back the easy humour of their conversation, “You’re going to be stuck with me for a while.”

“I don’t think you realize what an honour it is to work with you,” Patrick said, looking at him, sincere and serious, “You and Stevie are some of the hardest workers, most talented skaters, and just greatest people I’ve ever had the chance to work with and I— I cherish that. I cherish you.”

David smiled. “You cherish me?” 

Patrick blushed, “Plural you, David.”

“Oh, my mistake.” 

“You know what I meant.” Patrick waved his hand, dismissive. But that look on his face was still there, that smile, that fondness that David still didn’t quite understand. David’s heart felt warm again, whole, like he never wanted to leave this table.

But dinner was over sooner than he’d like, and Patrick drove him back to his apartment, quiet. Their conversation had ebbed and flowed into skating, Patrick’s hockey career, David’s favourite movies, Patrick’s laugh at David’s exaggerated shock that he hadn’t ever seen a single Sandra Bullock movie, and promises to amend that. The car ride had been a comfortable silence, both of them still sitting in the wake of everything they had shared. David felt so close to Patrick, there might as well not have been a console between them, he found himself wishing, unforgivably that there weren’t. 

The car stopped in front of David’s door. This was his cue to go. But Patrick sighed and turned around. “This was really nice.”

David smiled, thought he might make a joke about how it was no different than the countless other times they’d dined at the Cafe, but he knew it was different. “Thank you, really. For remembering,” he rolled his eyes, a little self-deprecating, “For caring.”

Patrick only nodded, and looked at him like a tide sweeping up against the shore. Some flimsy dam in David’s heart broke in that moment, and he surged forward like the water loose. His lips landed on Patrick’s before he realized what he was doing, but by then, Patrick was kissing back. And it felt right, like Patrick was the strength, the stability that David needed after so long adrift. But he knew it wasn’t, that Patrick was their coach, that there were rules, and ways these things went. And that’s when the panic came and he pulled away. 

“I—“ he started, but looked at Patrick’s face, his dazed look morphing to horror, and the words were stuck in his throat. The only thing to do was run. So he turned and got out of the car, closed the door harder than he meant to, and he hurried into his apartment without looking back.

Training was going to be _hell_ tomorrow morning. 

—

For an industry that allowed rampant sexist media coverage to go essentially unaddressed, among a myriad of problems borne of inborn patriarchy, they sure did put on the glitz and the glamour to show they cared about women. Alexis took another swig of the Moet they had coming out of the taps here, and she was grateful for it. She wasn’t sure how else she’d survive. 

The saddest part was she used to love these things. She was a natural social butterfly and would flit from weird executive, to brand representative, to fellow skater, to minor celebrity with practiced ease. But after her accident, these events had taken on an uncomfortable tinge. Cloying fake concern from fellow skaters, angling to get rid of competition, media who still wouldn’t let the _Mutt_ thing go, even after a full _year,_ and awkward glances from the suits of former brands who had endorsed her— all made for a room full of eyes she didn’t want on her. 

Her Dior dress clung comfortably to her frame, but her skin still itched beneath it. She scanned the room uncomfortably, and dodged the glances she accidentally caught. But here was something. The only person here who looked as miserable as her was Stevie.

Smiling, relieved, Alexis clicked over to her, a little unsteady on her heels from the three flutes of champagne she’d just downed. Stevie relaxed visibly to see her, the tenseness in her shoulders dropping. 

“Oh thank god, I was getting scared I’d have to talk to a stranger.” 

“Oh no, well, you’re welcome.” Alexis crossed her arms over her chest and looked back out into the crowd, but she caught Stevie’s expression growing confused.

“I thought you’d love these things.”

“I used to.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.” 

“Not too many fans here.”

“No, like, none probably.” 

“Why’d they still invite you?”

“I’m still a woman in skating. I’m still competing this season.”

“I know but you’re like a pariah. Why did you come?”

Alexis rounded on Stevie then, fire in her eyes, “Just because they make me feel bad about myself, doesn’t mean they get to know that.”

Stevie looked back at her and then smiled, clearly impressed. Alexis smiled a little too, her own tenseness fleeting. But then, a voice from behind her made her shoulders rigid and eyes wide all over again.

“Hey Alexis!” said Twyla— Alexis’s greatest competitor, the other half of Canada’s _other_ darling skating duo, and also the girl whose boyfriend Alexis had stolen. Well, stolen was harsh. She and Mutt never dated, she helped him cheat on Twyla, she was the other woman. It was a mistake, and Alexis had atoned publicly. But hearing Twyla’s voice just then reminded her that they’d never actually talked about it one on one, she’d never actually forgiven Alexis, and Alexis had never actually forgiven herself. She turned cautiously, as if moving would destroy her.

Twyla smiled, bright and earnest. “How are you? I didn’t think I’d see you here.” 

Alexis was more than a little startled. “I’m— I’m okay.”

“Is your ankle better?” Her concern sounded genuine. 

“Yeah, it’s a lot better. I’m… I’m competing this season.” 

“Well that’s great! I’ll see you out there then!”

“Well, no actually. David and I aren’t doing pairs skating anymore. It’ll just be me.” 

“I know, me too!” 

Alexis jaw dropped, but then she caught herself. What had she expected? That Mutt and Twyla would stay together after after what she did? The guilt was a gnawing pit in her stomach. And she was sure Twyla could see. 

“Oh no! Alexis, it’s not… Mutt and I broke up, but it’s not because of you. Well. I mean it was a little bit because of you, and what you did was obviously shitty, but it was clearly a long time coming.” 

“Twyla, I’m so sorry for everything. I really— it was the biggest mistake of my life.” Alexis poured every last bit of her heart into her apology, which came far too late. But Twyla’s smile grew softer, her eyes becoming a little glassy. 

“Oh, Alexis. I forgive you, it’s alright.”

Alexis knew that Twyla was being sincere too, but she still couldn’t believe that she could be forgiven so easily. So she pushed. “How? After what I did? The fact that I only apologized to you _now_ , a year later?”

“I’m not saying it was okay, or that I wasn’t angry with you. But it’s not like Mutt didn’t make the decision to cheat on me too. I know how this sport can get sometimes. The rivalries and the competition, it can bleed over into our real lives, and I don’t blame you for being young and making a mistake that you’re clearly sorry for.”

Alexis was at a total loss for words. “Thank you Twy, you are… you are kind of an incredible person.” 

At that, Twyla laughed, “Thank you.” And Alexis smiled back, even though a little tear was gathering in the corner of her eye. Twyla moved forward and brushed it gently away. 

Then she said, under her breath, “Look, I’d give you a hug if I didn’t think the cameras would have a field day.”

“I think you should do it anyway,” Stevie said, grinning beside Alexis. With a start, Alexis realized she’d been there the whole time. She extended a hand towards Twyla, “I’m Stevie.” 

Twyla took Stevie’s hand and shook it, smiling knowingly, “David’s new partner, right?”

Stevie nodded. Twyla smiled sympathetically at Stevie, “Is this your first one of these thing?”

“Could you tell from the way I was hiding in the corner?” 

Twyla laughed, “Stick with me and Alexis, we’ll survive it together.”

Her brilliant plan was more champagne, and Alexis realized that any prejudice she had ever held against this girl had been completely misguided. The rest of the night was completely survivable thanks to unexpected friendship. 

— 

From the second David opened his eyes to the minute those eyes landed on Patrick at the rink, his stomach was burning with dread. In the interim, every belated birthday wish text he read off his phone reminded him of last night. He was afraid he'd never be able to have a normal birthday again. Dread became abject misery as training began, and Patrick wouldn’t look at him. Patrick poke to him the bare amount necessary to get through their work, and he ran away the moment they were done, hurling some flimsy excuse behind his back. It wasn’t like David was going to confront him anyway. 

But Stevie was certainly going to confront David. She slammed her skates down beside him on the bench, he startled at the sound and looked up at her. She was furious.

“What’s with you two today?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Nothing? Patrick ran out of here like he saw a ghost. What happened at that dinner?”

“Oh, my god Stevie, I promise you, it was just a misunderstanding and we’re sorting it out.” 

“Oh, is he on a long-distance call with you right now?” 

David sighed. She wasn’t going to let up, clearly. 

“I kissed him last night,” he blurted, and immediately buried his face in his hands, his whole body cringing.

“You _what_?!” Stevie’s voice echoed through the rink. David tried to breathe through the terrible knot of anxiety in his chest that was growing tighter by the second.

“David!” Stevie was still panicked but now her voice was hushed. A few of the skaters in the slot they had just vacated were turning their heads, pointing strange looks towards them. “What happened? How?”

David noticed the eyes watching them. “We can’t talk about it here.” And he led her into the, luckily empty, locker room.

She stood before him, hands on her hips, waiting. He took a deep breath. 

“We had dinner. For my birthday. It was nice. And I had a bit of wine to drink. And he was just so nice to me and I clearly don’t know how to respond to that appropriately. He dropped me off in front of my apartment and I just leaned over and kissed him.”

“Oh, my god, David this isn’t good. I mean. I’m happy for you, I think he’s really good for you. Or he would be… if he wasn’t our _literal coach_.”

“It’s not going to happen again,” he promised Stevie, and he believed himself, though the leadlike feeling in his stomach protested.

“You have to talk to him.”

Dread kicked back, full force. “No, I can’t.” 

“You can’t just avoid him forever!”

“Look, it happened _last night_ , let’s just let it blow over for one day.”

Stevie looked at him for a long moment, her brows furrowed, she was clearly not satisfied with this. But she also probably saw the distress in his eyes and softened. “Okay. But you have to do this soon.”

“Okay. I promise.” 

And with that Stevie turned on her heel and marched out. Once she was gone, David collapsed onto a bench. The prospect of talking to Patrick right now gripped his ribs like a vice. He tried to breathe through his tight chest, but sitting here with his thoughts wasn’t helping to clear them. He sought the quick distraction of his phone, scrolled mindlessly, plugging in his headphones when other people entered the changeroom, and only emerging from his haze when his phone was completely dead. He needed to get home. 

He emerged from the locker room to an abandoned rink. Everyone had gone home. Even the main lights were out. He had a terrifying thought that he was locked in, but he knew that even at this hour there was a chance that someone was at the front desk, and even if they weren’t, there was a phone there, and he could call someone to get him.

So he ambled to the front area quickly, and there, sitting at the front desk, was Patrick. When he saw David his eyes went wide, and David was sure he had a similarly awkward expression. So David booked it for the door, pushing it only to realize it was locked.

“I already tried that. I think… we’re locked in.”

“Why are you still here? I thought you left after training?” 

Patrick sighed. “I came back to help your dad with some of the books.” 

“Why would you—? Oh. Business major.” 

“Yeah, it’s just a bunch of busywork that he needed an extra set of hands with and, I mean, I don’t have an overabundance of free time but I’m also single and…” he trailed off, his face flushing immediately. David sighed. They had to talk about it. 

He still couldn’t resist the urge to stall, “If you were here, how come you didn’t notice when Roland locked up?”

“I was in the back with the books. He keeps them in the storage room. I don’t think Roland knew I was here.”

“Did you call my dad to come let us out?”

“The phone lines are down because of the snowstorm.” 

“Shit. Even the… acoustic one?” 

Patrick looked up at him with a curious gaze, a smile flickering at the corners of his lips. “Acoustic, David?” 

“You know the one that’s at the desk. The one that’s not a cellphone.” 

“I think you mean landline.”

“Sure, whatever, landline.”

Patrick laughed then, and it was familiar and warm, and David felt that tangle in his stomach ease for the first time all day. Patrick sighed eventually and he shook his head. “The landline doesn’t work either when the phone lines aren’t working.”

“Fuck.” 

Patrick sighed again, leaned heavily against the front desk. 

“So we’re stuck here?” 

“Until the morning at least.”

Then David gasped, "Wait. My phone is dead but if you still have yours, you can email my dad.”

Patrick shook his head at that as well, “Cellular data doesn’t work when your phone isn’t getting any coverage. And there’s no WiFi.”

“Ugh, I _told_ my dad the rink needed WiFi.”

“Look, David, it’s fine. It’s a big place, and luckily the generator is still working so there’s going to be electricity and heat all night so we can just go to opposite sides of the place and—“

As if his words were prophetic, the generator gave out, bathing them instantly in darkness.

“Spoke too soon.”

“Damn it,” Patrick slammed his hand against the counter, and the sound was even louder in the dark, David jumped. “Sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry. Okay. Let’s just stay calm.”

“I’m calm.”

“I’m sure there are candles back here.” 

And sure enough after a bit of rummaging, Patrick excavated a few. 

“I’m assuming you have a lighter, David?”

“I don’t like what you’re implying,” he said, digging in his pocked, “but you’re welcome.”

“Oh, all I meant by that was that you’re such a boy scout. Always prepared.” His grin was a little spooky in the candlelight. But David stared anyway. Patrick looked away first. 

But now, they were huddled behind the desk, lit up orange, and they had to talk about it.

“Look, I’m sorry about last night,” David started.

“No. Don’t be… I mean. Do you regret it?” Patrick’s voice sounded small, so unlike him normally. 

“I don’t regret it because it was you and… I like you,” David cringed at himself, but thought it was worth it in the end to see Patrick’s tentative smile. “But I know we can’t… because you’re our coach."

“That was my first time. Um. Kissing a guy.”

“Oh,” David felt his face get hot. “Was it… okay? I mean, I’m sorry, that’s a stupid question—”

“No, no,” Patrick cut him off gently, “It was really nice. It was… a revelation. I mean I always thought but… I never knew until last night.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help you sort that out…” David cringed at himself but Patrick laughed again. 

“I’m glad too. And I like you too.” David’s heart started to beat so loud he could hear it. “But… I’m your coach. So we can’t.”

David sighed and huddled closer into himself. “It’s okay,” he said, muffled into his knees, “I still like being friends with you.”

“Okay,” Patrick sounded relieved, “I do too.” 

“We can exist in a world where we’ve kissed but we’re still friends. We’re mature.” 

“Exactly.” 

And it sounded like they had reached a point of closure. But it didn’t feel that way. Disappointment was heavy in David’s bones, weighing him down with the sadness of lost potential. Patrick’s presence kept reminding him of what he couldn’t have, what they couldn’t be, and it just hurt. He wasn’t sure how he was going to survive the night like this.

But it was his luck that he didn’t have to. Apparently, his dad and Roland came back to check on the generator— it turned out that he never had gotten around to installing the new one, and was worried about the ice. They opened the door to a grateful David and Patrick who were let out and made their ways back home through the snow-choked streets. 

David slept uneasily that night. But luckily, training was cancelled the next morning. Trouble at the rink.

— 

Another physical therapy appointment meant Alexis was in her comfiest, stretchiest clothes, swinging her legs, and waiting. Except this wasn't _just_ another appointment. It would be her last one, but Ted didn’t know it yet. Alexis had had some help coming to some revelations lately. 

It turned out friendship with Twyla was more than just having someone fun to talk to at boring skating events, it was like having a confidante. Someone who would listen, and who would share, with no judgement and truly life-changing advice. Alexis supposed this is what it was like having a friend. A _real_ friend. 

Twyla had convinced her to get her head out of the sand when it came to Ted. And she was here to do it, she was determined to do it. Even though when Ted walked into the room, and all of her bones spontaneously turned to jelly, she knew she had to do it.

Ted went over her chart, her progress, whatever, she wasn’t really listening. But she waited until he finished. 

“Ted, I need to talk to you about something.”

He smiled like the sun. “Sure, Alexis, anything.”

“I can’t be your patient anymore.”

The smile fell off his face then, he blinked a few times, and fiddled with his clip board. “Can… can I ask why not?”

“I really, really like you Ted. And I don’t think I can keep it in anymore. And I don’t want you to have any like, ethical issues because I’m your patient. I already have another PT, they’re going to call your secretary for my files. I just. I can’t not take this chance.”

He looked stunned. He set the clipboard down and sat in his chair. He looked at her, his eyes a storm. “Alexis… I don’t know what to say.”

Alexis shook her head, “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t expect anything in return from you. I just needed to let you know.”

“But wait… can I see you again? Can we talk about this?”

“My first qualifier is in Toronto,” she held out the paper she’d been creasing, her nervous grip tight in her pocket. Her fingers trembled a little when she handed it to him. “The details are all on there. It’s next weekend. Come see me. Let’s talk after.”

Ted nodded shakily, and Alexis took her cue to leave. As she left the room, she deflated. T he adrenaline from that interaction left her body and anxiety started to seep in. But she wouldn’t let it. She’d crossed the first hurdle. Now she only had to skate. 

—

“How are you feeling?” Patrick asked. David was breathing into a paper bag. He lifted it from his mouth. 

“Just so great,” he feigned a smile but it quickly turned into a scowl.

“That’s the spirit.”

Stevie rubbed his shoulders. “Just breathe, David. We’re going to do great. That’s it. Inhale, exhale.”

“I know how to breathe!” he snapped at her finally, and she just laughed at him.

“Look, you guys are the best team in the country, in the world,” Patrick said, his voice hushed, “They just don’t know it yet. But you’re going to show them.”

The tension eased the slightest bit in David’s shoulders. He could turn his nerves into indignation. That feeling was a lot more comfortable, a lot more familiar. Proving himself to anyone who ever doubted him— that was what he was born to do. 

“I’m ready,” he breathed. “I’m ready.”

And then, it was their time. Stevie and David skated to the centre of the ice, got into their starting positions, and waited for the music to start. Dvorak was what they settled on for their final short program. The music was light and airy, and the movements were ingrained into the fabric of their muscles. As soon as they started moving, it was like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

Skating apart and skating closer, holding on to each other as they spun, and letting go and using that momentum to fly. David and Stevie skated with their bodies inches above the ice, and then flew meters high in their jumps. Finally, time came for their final lift. As the music began to crescendo, and Stevie drew nearer, David anchored himself to the ice, and summoned every last breath of strength in his body.

Stevie soared high, arcing like a shooting star. 

He basked in her glow for just a moment before he let her down, and they came to their final position, and they were breathing heavily, but smiling so wide it hurt. And there was cheering in the stands, Patrick the loudest of all.

They had proven themselves. The first step was done.

—

Alexis couldn’t stop shaking. She watched the girl before her dancing like a piece of silk. She felt like she was made of tin, hulking and awkward. Moira paced nervously beside her.

“Mom, can you stop doing that, it’s not helping.” Her mother stilled and came to sit next to her. 

“You’re not still feeling trepidation are you, Alexis?”

“Of course I am! I don’t know if I can do this!”

“Nonsense! Of course you can. You are entirely capable, and more than that, you are expertly trained. You have not given up a spare moment, you have fought through your debilitating injury. Alexis, you are quite literally the strongest person I know. If you cannot do this then I fear for the rest of us rabble!”

Alexis managed a little giggle at that. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, let her mothers words sink in. Her eyes roamed over the crowd, she told herself she did it randomly, but she was lying to herself.

Ted wasn’t here yet. Maybe he wasn’t coming. 

But that wasn’t what was most important here. She was restarting her career. She was reinventing her career. She was going to go back to the thing she loved most in the world. Whether Ted was here or not, that wouldn’t change. 

She got up and started to prepare for her turn. She slid onto the ice, and it felt like coming home. She focused on that feeling. As she got into position, her eyes flickered to the crowd one last time. And there, right in her sightline, was Ted. He was holding a bouquet of flowers. Alexis smiled at him, she couldn’t stop.

The music started. She was lucky it was one of Tchaikovsky’s happier pieces. She smiled as she floated her way through the choreography. Now _she_ was silk, gossamer— she was flying. Her lutzes timed perfectly with the orchestral hits, and her spins wrapped themselves around the lilting flutes.

Her jumps were high and her landings steady. She could spin low to the ground and graze the ice. Her leg balanced behind her in a smooth, straight line. And her ankle only hurt the tiniest, _tiniest_ amount. 

It was getting easier not to focus on it. Only think of the notes of the music, each beat and each bar before it all finally came to a close, and her arms were triumphant, lifted high in the air. And the crowd cheered. But she was only focused on one person among them.

She rushed to see Ted as soon as she could. Of course, she had to wait for scores, hyperventilate about how she’d ranked first, and finally she could sneak back into the bleachers and see him. She couldn’t help herself, she wrapped Ted into a big hug, and he hugged back, the fabric of his jacket warm against her skin.

“You made it!” she said, breathless and elated. 

Ted held out her flowers, “These are for you.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“You were… amazing, Alexis. I had no idea.”

“It’s thanks to you,” she laughed. But Ted shook her head. 

“No, you did that all on your own. You are a phenomenon.”

“Do you want to get dinner with me?”

Ted smiled. “Of course, you must be starved.”

And as they left for dinner, Ted slipped his hand into hers, only let it go so he could have both hands on the steering wheel, and held it at the table until their food came. Alexis didn’t mind, she never wanted to let go.

—

The rest of the tournaments in the season passed in a blur of victories. 

It was unlikely, but it was happening. David and Stevie championed over their every competitor in Canada. Their discipline and chemistry was unparalleled. And every time before they would go on, Patrick would have a new pep talk ready to inspire them. 

Sometimes, after they won, high off the adrenaline, David would rush Patrick into the locker room and kiss him, quick and heated, and they would stop if they heard the slightest noise. They hadn’t been caught. But they were playing a dangerous game. And they weren’t talking about it. If Stevie suspected anything, she didn’t say. But they were both a lot less tense around each other now. For better or for worse.

Alexis was similarly successful. She and Moira traversed the country, and even travelled to the States and Scandinavia for their tournaments and Alexis ranked consistently high. Ted tagged along, anywhere he could drive. And they organized Skype calls when she was overseas. This thing between them was growing faster than either of them expected. But Alexis was happier than she’d been in a long time. And she wasn’t going to let this go. 

David and Stevie’s final qualifier before the Olympics was possibly the most anxious David could recall being in his life. He was a literal ball of anxiety, wrapped up into himself in the locker room and barely breathing in short little gasps. He heard somebody enter and looked up to see Patrick. His anxiety loosened the tiniest bit. Patrick sat down on the bench beside him, hand warm and soothing on his shoulder. David felt himself relax an increment more.

“David, you’ve got this. It’s not going to be like last time.”

“I know that, but someone needs to tell my brain. It’s not cooperating.” 

“Let me talk to him, I’m not afraid to rough him up a little.”

David laughed, but it was faint and shaky. His anxiety was mounting, which isn’t what it usually did when Patrick was near. He looked at him carefully, but he still couldn’t breathe. Patrick moved closer, and suddenly it was clear. He wasn’t anxious because of the qualifier. 

“Patrick. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Patrick stilled immediately, “What do you mean? It’s one last qualifier, David, you can’t give up now—“

“No, no, no. It’s not about the skating.”

“What’s it about?” 

“I can’t keep this a secret anymore. I can’t not talk about this anymore.”

“You and me, you mean.”

“Yes,” David said, miserable, but the tightness in his chest was finally starting to ease. 

“You want to stop, then?”

“No, that’s not it. Patrick. I really like you.”

“I like you too.” 

“But you can’t be our coach anymore.” 

The truth fell like a lead brick. Like a bomb between them. They sat reeling in the aftermath. 

Patrick's voice was shaky when he finally spoke. "Alright. If... if that's what you want."

And Patrick left the room, and it felt like he took all the air with him. 

It turned out this exact moment, when David was feeling his worst, was the most inconvenient moment to feel like that. He was about to go qualify for the Olympics. He was about to go fulfil his dream. And he would do it, broken heart and all. 

—

This was the moment Alexis had been waiting for. Her final qualifier before the Olympics. Of course, she’d been here before. But the last time, it had ended in disaster. She wasn’t going to let that happen again. This time, she had Ted. She had her family. Even David had come to cheer her on. It was a tense day for the two of them, but this morning David had surprised her with his kindness, wishing her well, bringing her flowers. Something had changed with him, after everything with Patrick. She wasn’t sure what it was yet, but she would have to find out. As soon as this was done she would have to talk about it. She would have to properly congratulate him on qualifying for the Olympics. She was at peace slightly knowing that at least one of them would be fulfilling their dreams. 

The goal was for them both to go. 

And she was ready. 

She was waiting at the edge of the rink when her ankle started to _scream_. Alexis's eyes went wide instantly, casting around the audience. All of her family were gathered front and center, they were watching her. She took a deep breath. Then, all of a sudden, the pain was gone. She skated slowly onto the ice, reaching the center. She waited as the music filtered in and distracted her further. _It's just this_ , she told herself, _you just have to get through this_. 

And she was okay.

Her first few moves were simple, elegant. A toe loop, followed by a salchow, and an elegant leg lift as she skated backwards. Her program was going okay. She managed her spins, even though they made her dizzier than usual. She managed her jumps, even though they sent pain shooting up her leg. It was her final move that she was dreading. It was a triple axel. She'd managed it a couple of times in rehearsal, but it was hard even when she was in her best form. She breathed steadily, and she geared up for it.

She soared through the air, she was spinning, once, twice, three times, but when she landed, it was finally all too much.

She collapsed onto the ice, heard her name being screamed from somewhere, and her vision went black.

—

Somewhere, in a hotel room in Edmonton, a cake was going stale. Streamers were fluttering in the breeze of an open window. The Rose family, accompanied by Stevie and Ted, were all huddled together in the waiting room of a hospital instead. David had bitten his nails to the quick. Ted had amassed a truly terrifying pile of pretzels, but he kept going back to the vending machines, like clockwork, every five minutes there was no news about Alexis. He also wouldn't stop muttering that this was all his fault. Every ten minutes someone had to remind him that he hadn't been Alexis's doctor for over half a year. Of course this job was David's, managed between staring at Patrick's number in his phone, wondering if he was allowed to text him about this. 

He and Patrick hadn't spoken since they'd qualified for the Olympics. He hadn't been back at the rink. He hadn't texted or called. And David didn't know if he was allowed. He'd consumed a terrifying amount of reality television in the interim. Flying out to see Alexis was about one of the only places he'd been in months. He felt lonely. Hollowed out. But he didn't know what to do about it. Stevie had suggested giving Patrick space, that he needed time to think. But the longer he took, the worse David felt. 

And they still didn't have a new coach. 

Finally, a doctor came and his parents could go in. Ted jumped up, announced for the thousandth time that he was a doctor too, but they were strict. Family only. David supposed that applied to him but he said nothing right away. He wasn't sure Alexis would want to see him. Not again.

But his dad hesitated, "David, don't you want to come in and check on your sister?" 

David sighed. But he followed his parents anyway. Alexis was sitting in her hospital bed, a piece of gauze wrapped around her head and her ankle was in a cast. But she was okay, and she was smiling ruefully at them. 

"Oh, Alexis," Moira said, "How did we find ourselves here again?"

Alexis sighed, pushed her head against the pillows, "It was my fault. I pushed myself too hard. Even when I knew my ankle hurt."

"It was hurting this whole time?" Johnny said, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. "And you never said anything?"

"I know, I know, it was stupid." 

"You were trying to be strong," David cut in. His parents and Alexis turned to him, surprised that he had said that. David was a little surprised himself. "I would have done the same thing."

Alexis smiled at him, for the first time in a long time. "Ew, David," she said, fond, "Get your own thing." 

David smiled, and then Moira burst out in a laugh which turned into a sob, "What am I going to do with you? What will happen to your career?"

"Mom," Alexis said, and Johnny instinctively rubbed a calming hand along her shoulders. "I'm not going to compete again. I'm going to get better, then I'm going to learn how to coach." 

Another wail from Moira. "Mom!" Alexis said, "I've had a lot of time here to think. About what's really important. About _who_ is really important in my life. I know Ted is out there emptying the vending machines, I know Stevie is probably opening the M&Ms and throwing them at him. I know David probably didn't want to come here and see me because he didn't think I wanted to see him. But I do. You guys are all I care about. I love you." 

"Oh, Alexis," Johnny said, and he took his daughter's hand. "I love you too."

"Of course I love you dear," Moira said, drying her tears, "I'll love you no matter what you do."

David blinked hard to keep from crying but the tears came anyway. The three of them turned to him, grinning. "Come on, David," Alexis goaded. 

"Come on, son," his dad said. 

"Really, now, David," his mother said.

And finally, David gave up. "I love you guys too," he said, his eyes trained on the ceiling. But his smile was bright, and his heart was full. Well, almost full. There was a former-hockey-legend-turned-figure-skating-coach-shaped hole in it. But it was as full as he was going to get it. His parents drew him in by the hand and pulled him into a hug, and they huddled there for so long they lost track of time. 

The only thing that broke them up was a nurse that ducked her head in through the door. "Excuse me, is there a David Rose in this room."

David turned and raised his hand. "That's me."

"I have a man named Patrick Brewer in the waiting room who is very insistent that he see you."

"Patrick?" Johnny said, "What's he doing here."

"Didn't you fire him?" Alexis asked. 

"You did what?" He hadn't exactly told his mother. And this wasn't how he had planned on it happening. "How many secrets are you two harboring?"

David winced and turned back. "I had to fire him... because I think I'm in love with him."

The news washed over the room, and though his parents had the grace to look a little shocked, Alexis only rolled her eyes knowingly at him. 

"Don't just stand here then, idiot. Go get him!"

And summoning every drop of courage he had left in him, David went to do just that.

— 

As the nurse had promised, Patrick was standing stock still in the waiting room. Stevie was there looking avidly between the two of them, and shoving a handful of pretzels in her mouth. She'd made her way through half of Ted's stash. Ted jumped straight out of his seat when he saw David, eyes wide and a little crazed. 

"Is she okay?" he asked immediately. 

"She's fine. She asked for you, by the way, so you can go." 

Ted looked like he had just won the lottery, and he pushed past David eagerly to get through.

David turned back to Stevie. "A little privacy, please?" She rolled her eyes but was gone, a couple more bags of pretzels in her arms. The rest of the waiting room was blessedly empty.

Finally, after he had hesitated long enough, David looked at Patrick. He had rings around his eyes, and his shirt was uncharacteristically crumpled, like he hadn't slept. 

"I took a red-eye here." 

"Wow, all for me?"

Patrick laughed, but his smile was weary, "Yes, all for you."

"You know my sister's the one who's in the hospital."

"I know. I actually thought I'd be crashing a party."

"Oh so this was always the plan."

"David, nothing about you could have been planned. You showed up in my life, and you upturned everything. Everything that I thought I was, everything that I thought I could be."

"Well, you changed a lot of things for me too." 

"Oh, really? Like what?"

"Um, well, I didn't know people could be as kind and patient with me as you are, and have always been. I didn't know anyone could care about me like you do."

Patrick's eyes were glassy, his voice was choked up when he spoke next, "I'm sorry I left like that after the Olympic qualifiers."

"It's fine. I essentially fired you. I don't know what I expected."

"No, you were right. I loved coaching this team, David, but I think I love you more."

David felt like his heart stopped. "You mean that?" 

"I do." 

And like a magnet drawn, David couldn't help but fold himself in Patrick's arms, melt into a kiss that was long overdue. He could get any old coach, but there was only one Patrick. And they had danced around each other for so long, this felt like a triumph beyond anything else. This felt like home. 

**_2026_**

David hated the way he looked, awful and sweaty up on the big screen. He focused on it to distract from his nerves as the scores came in. But then Stevie’s hand slipped into his, and he held on tight, forgot about himself for a second, and thought about everything they’d accomplished, thought about how far they’d come. Moira's hand held his other, and she watched hopefully as the fruits of her labour, of her unparalleled coaching would be revealed for the whole world to see. 

The scores were announced. They were higher than David could have imagined. And finally, their rank. _First._ They had won gold. 

If he were being honest, David’s _first_ first thought was about the mountain of gelato that was waiting for him the second they got back to the hotel. But his second first thought was about his family, his best friend, and his partner. All of them ready and waiting in the stands to pile into one big, embarrassing hug. But David couldn’t be embarrassed when he was surrounded by the ones he loved. When he was wrapped in the embrace of everyone who’d believed in his dreams and who had helped him get there. 

Now _that_ was the only thing truly impossible.

**Author's Note:**

> title from never enough by rex orange county


End file.
